PS  35Jl  Y5  C3  1916 


3   1822  01163  5588 


GAPPY  RICKS 

OR  THE  SUBJUGATION  OF 
MATT  PEASLEY 


BY 

PETER  B.  KYNE 


AUTHOR  OF 
THE  LONG  CHANCE 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

HARVEY  DUNN  AND 
ANTON  OTTO   FISCHER 


NEW    YORK 

GROSS  ET  &  DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1915,  by 
The  Curtis  Publishing  Company. 

Copyright,  1916,  by 
The  H.  K.  Fly  Company. 


TO  THE  IDEAL  AMERICAN  SAILOR 

As  exemplified  in  the  persons  of  my  good  friends, 

CAPTAIN  RALPH  E.  PEASLEY, 
of  Jonesport,  Maine, 

Who  skippered  the  first  five-masted  schooner  ever  built, 
brought  her,  on  that  first  voyage,  through  the  worst 
typhoon  that  ever  blew,  and  upon  arriving  off  the  Yang 
Tse  Kiang  River  for  the  first  time  in  his  adventurous 
career,  decided  he  could  not  trust  a  Chinese  pilot,  and 
established  a  record  by  sailing  her  up  himself! 

CAPTAIN  I.  N.  HIBBERD, 
of  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

Sometime  master  of  the  American  clipper  ship,  Cyrus 
Wakefield,  who,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five  broke  three 
world's  records  in  one  voyage :  San  Francisco  to  Liverpool 
and  back,  eight  months  and  two  days ;  Liverpool  to  San 
Francisco,  one  hundred  days ;  from  the  equator  to  San 
Francisco,  eleven  days.  The  clipper  ship  is  gone  but  the 
skipper  remains,  an  undefeated  champion. 

CAPTAIN  WILLIAM  P.  CANTY, 
of  San  Francisco,  Cal., 

Sometime  mate  of  the  brig  Galilee,  who,  with  his  naked 

hands,   convinced   in   thirty-five   minutes   nine   larger   men 

than  himself  of  the  incontrovertible   fact  that  you  cannot 

keep  a  good  man  down. 


TO  THE  AMERICAN  SHIPOWNER 

As  exemplified  in  the  persons  of  my  good  friends, 

JOHN  H.  ROSSITER, 

Manager  of  W.  R.  Grace  &  Co., 

of  San  Francisco. 

EDWIN  A.  CHRISTENSON, 

President  of  the  Sudden  &  Christenson  S.  S.  Line, 
of  San  Francisco. 

JOHN  R.  HANIFY, 

President  of  the  J.  R.  Hanify  Company, 
of  San  Francisco. 

TO  THE  PACIFIC  COAST  LUMBERMAN 

As  exemplified  in  the  person  of  my  good  friend, 

AUGUSTUS  J.  ("Gus")  RUSSELL, 
California  Manager  for  the  Portland  Lumber 
Company,  and  my  personal  representative,  with 
out  salary  in  the  wholesale  lumber  trade,  ever 
since  I  abandoned  lumber  for  literature. 

TO  FREIGHT,  SHIP  AND  MARINE  INSURANCE 
BROKERS 

As  exemplified  in  the  persons  of  my  good  friends, 

MESSRS.  E.  B.  SMITH,  OSCAR  J.  BETFTTSS 

and  ALLAN  HAYES. 

This  volume  is  dedicated,  without  charge  for  the 
advertising  hut  with  profound  appreciation  of  the  part 
they  have  played  in  making  this  book  possible.  With 
the  author  they  must  bear  an  equal  burden  of  whatever 
of  praise  or  censure  shall  entail. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  MASTER  OF  MANY  SHIPS  AND  SKIP 
PER   OF  NONE 9 

II.  THE  MAN  FROM  BLUE  WATER       .     .  13 

III.  UNDER  TPIE  BLUE  STAR  FLAG  ...  18 

IV.  BAD  NEWS  FROM  CAPE  TOWN  ....  26 

V.  MATT  PEASLEY  ASSUMES  OFFICE    .     .  31 

VI.  WORDY  WAR  AT  A  DOLLAR  A  WORD    .  36 

VII.  CAPPY  RICKS  MAKES  BAD  MEDICINE  .  45 

VIII.  ALL  HANDS  AND  FEET  TO  THE  RESCUE  50 

IX.  MR.  MURPHY  ADVISES  PREPAREDNESS  55 

X.  THE  BATTLE  OF  TABLE  BAY      ...  59 

XI.  MR.  SKINNER  RECEIVES  A  TELEGRAM  .  72 

XII.  THE  CAMPAIGN  OPENS 79 

XIII.  AN  OLD  FRIEND  RETURNS  AND  CAPPY 

LEADS  ANOTHER  ACE 90 

XIV.  INSULT  ADDED  TO  INJURY    ....  94 

XV.  RUMORS  OF  WAR 98 

XVI.  WAR! .104 

XVII.  CAPPY  FORCES  AN  ARMISTICE    .     .     .  110 

XVIII.  THE  WAR  Is  RENEWED 116 

XIX.  CAPPY  SEEKS  PEACE 119 

XX.  PEACE  AT  LAST! .124 

XXI.  MATT  PEASLEY  MEETS  A  TALKATIVE 

STRANGER .129 


CONTENTS 

XXII.     FACE  TO  FACE 139 

XXIII.     BUSINESS  AND 148 

XXIV.     THE  CLEAN  UP 155 

XXV.  CAPPY  PROVES  HIMSELF  A  DESPOT       .  162 

XXVI.     MATT  PEASLEY  ix  EXILE 170 

XXVII.     PROMOTION 177 

XXVIII.     CAPPY  HAS  A  HEART 183 

XXIX.  NATURE  TAKES  HER  COURSE      .     .     .  189 

XXX.  MR.  SKINNER  HEARS  A  LECTURE    .     .  197 

XXXI.     INTERNAL  COMBUSTION 201 

XXXII.  SKINNER  PROPOSES — AND  CAPPY  RICKS 

DISPOSES 216 

XXXIII.  CAPPY'S  PLANS  DEMOLISHED       .     .     .  226 

XXXIV.  A  GIFT  FROM  THE  GODS 232 

XXXV.     A  DIRTY  YANKEE  TRICK 236 

XXXVI.  CAPPY  FORBIDS  THE  BANS — YET   .     .  245 

XXXVII.  MATT  PEASLEY  BECOMES  A  SHIPOWNER  253 

XXXVIII.     WORKING  CAPITAL 258 

XXXIX.     EASY  MONEY 261 

XL.     THE  CATACLYSM 269 

XLI.  WHEN  PAIN  AND  ANGUISH  WRING  THE 

BROW 276 

XLII.  UNEXPECTED   DEVELOPMENTS   .     ,     .  281 

XLIII.  CAPPY  PLANS  A  KNOCK-OUT  ....  300 

XLIV.  SKINNER   DEVELOPS   INTO   A   HUMAN 

BEING 309 

XLV.  CAPPY  PULLS  OFF  A  WEDDING  .     .     .  314 

XLVI.     A  SHIP  FORGOTTEN 319 

XL VII.  THE  TAIL  GOES  WITH  THE  HIDE    .     .  332 

XLVIII.  VICTORY   .  338 


ILLUSTRATION^ 

ONCE  BEFORE  HE  HAD  HEARD  THAT  LAUGH — WHEN 

HE  COURTED  FLORRY'S  DEAD  MOTHER      Frontispiece 

"How  DESE  BAN  SUIT  You  FOR  CREDENTIALS?"  .     .     64» 

THE  UNWILLING  WRETCH  WAS  CARRIED  STRUGGLING 

TO  PURGATORY 91 

"MY  DEAR  MR.  RICKS,  I  VENERATE  You  AS  A  HUMAN 

CHRISTMAS  TREE."  .  .  296 


Gappy  Ricks  or  The 
Subjugation  of  Matt  Peasley 


CHAPTER    I 

MASTER.    OF    MANY    SHIPS    AND    SKIPPER    OF    NONE 

A  PSYCHOLOGIST  would  have  termed  Alden  P.  Ricks  an 
individualist,  but  his  associates  in  the  wholesale  lumber 
and  shipping  trade  of  the  Pacific  Coast  proclaimed  him 
a  character. 

In  his  youth  he  had  made  one  voyage  round  Cape  Horn 
as  a  cabin  boy,  his  subsequent  nautical  experience  having 
been  confined  to  the  presidency  of  the  Blue  Star  Navi 
gation  Company  and  occasional  voyages  as  a  first-cabin 
passenger.  Notwithstanding  this  apparent  lack  of  salt 
water  wisdom,  however,  his  intimate  knowledge  of  ships 
and  the  men  who  go  down  to  the  sea  in  them,  together  with 
his  very  distinct  personality,  had  conduced  to  provide 
him  with  a  courtesy  title  in  his  old  age.  , 

It  is  more  than  probable  that,  had  Alden  P.  Ricks  been  ( 
a  large,  commanding  person  possessed  of  the  dignity  the 
average  citizen  associates  witli  men  of  equal  financial 
rating,  the  Street  would  have  called  him  Captain  Ricks. 
Had  he  lacked  these  characteristics,  but  borne  nevertheless, 
even  a  remote  resemblance  to  a  retired  mariner,  his 
world  would  have  hailed  him  as  Old  Cap  Ricks ;  but  since 

9 


io  CAPPY    RICKS 

he  was  what  he  was — a  dapper,  precise,  shrewd,  lovable 
little  old  man  with  mild,  paternal  blue  eyes,  a  keen  sense 
of  humor  and  a  Henry  Clay  collar,  which  latter,  together 
with  a  silk  top  hat,  had  distinguished  him  on  'Change  for 
forty  years — it  was  inevitable  that  along  the  Embarcadero 
and  up  California  Street  he  should  bear  the  distinguishing 
appellation  of  Cappy.  In  any  other  line  of  human 
endeavor  he  would  have  been  called  Pappy — he  was  that 
type  of  man. 

Cappy  Ricks  had  so  much  money,  amassed  in  the  whole 
sale  lumber  and  shipping  business,  that  he  had  to  engage 
some  very  expensive  men  to  take  care  of  it  for  him.  He 
owned  the  majority  of  the  stock  of  the  Ricks  Lumber  and 
Logging  Company,  with  sawmills  and  timberlands  in 
California,  Oregon  and  Washington;  his  young  men  had 
to  sell  a  million  feet  of  lumber  daily  in  order  to  keep  pace 
with  the  output,  while  the  vessels  of  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company,  also  controlled  by  Cappy,  freighted 
it.  There  were  thirty-odd  vessels  in  the  Blue  Star  fleet — 
windjammers  and  steam  schooners;  and  Cappy  was 
registered  as  managing  owner  of  every  one. 

Following  that  point  in  his  career  when  the  young 
fellows  on  the  Street,  discovering  that  he  was  a  true-blue 
sport,  had  commenced  to  fraternize  with  him  and  call  him 
Cappy,  the  old  gentleman  ceased  to  devote  his  attention 
to  the  details  of  his  business.  He  was  just  beginning  to 
enjoy  life ;  so  he  shifted  the  real  work  of  his  multifarious 
interests  to  the  capable  shoulders  of  a  Mr.  John  P. 
Skinner,  who  fitted  into  his  niche  in  the  business  as 
naturally  as  the  kernel  of  a  healthy  walnut  fits  its  shell. 
Mr.  Skinner  was  a  man  still  on  the  sunny  side  of  middle 
life,  smart,  capable,  cold-blooded,  a  little  bumptious,  and, 
like  the  late  Julius  Caesar,  ambitious. 


MASTER  OF  MANY  SHIPS  n 

No  sooner  had  Cappy  commenced  to  take  life  easy  than 
Skinner  commenced  to  dominate  the  business.  He  attended 
an  efficiency  congress  and  came  home  with  a  collection 
of  newfangled  ideas  that  eliminated  from  the  office  all  the 
joy  and  contentment  old  Cappy  Ricks  had  been  a  life-time 
installing.  He  inaugurated  card  systems  and  short  cuts 
in  bookkeeping  that  drove  Cappy  to  the  verge  of  insanity, 
because  he  could  never  go  to  the  books  himself  and  find 
out  anything  about  his  own  business.  He  had  to  ask  Mr. 
Skinner — which  made  Skinner  an  important  individual. 

With  the  passage  of  five  years  the  general  manager  was 
high  and  low  justice  in  Cappy's  offices,  and  had  mastered 
the  not-too-difficult  art  of  dominating  his  employer,  for 
Cappy  seldom  seriously  disagreed  with  those  he  trusted. 
He  saved  all  his  fighting  force  for  his  competitors. 

However,  Cappy's  interest  in  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company  b!id  not  wane  with  the  cessation  of  his  activities 
as  chief  kicker.  Ordinarily,  Mr.  Skinner  bossed  the 
navigation  company  as  he  bossed  the  lumber  business,  for 
Cappy's  private  office  was  merely  headquarters  for 
receiving  mail,  reading  the  newspapers,  receiving  visitors, 
smoking  an  after-luncheon  cigar,  and  having  a  little  nap 
from  three  o'clock  until  four,  at  which  hour  Cappy  laid 
aside  the  cares  of  business  and  put  in  two  hours  at  bridge 
in  his  club. 

Despite  this  apparent  indifference  to  business,  however, 
Mr.  Skinner  handled  the  navigation  company  with  gloves ; 
for,  if  Cappy  dozed  in  his  office,  he  had  a  habit  of  keeping 
one  eye  open,  so  to  speak,  and  every  little  while  he  would 
wake  up  and  veto  an  order  of  Skinner's,  of  which  the 
latter  would  have  been  willing  to  take  an  oath  Cappy  had 
never  heard.  In  the  matter  of  engaging  new  skippers 
or  discharging  old  ones  Mr.  Skinner  had  to  be  very 


12  GAPPY    RICKS 

careful.  Cappy  always  declared  that  any  clerk  can 
negotiate  successfully  a  charter  at  the  going  rates  in  a 
stiff  market,  but  skippers  are,  in  the  final  analysis,  the 
Genii  of  the  Dividends.  And  Cappy  knew  skippers.  He 
could  get  more  loyalty  out  of  them  with  a  mere  pat  on  the 
back  and  a  kindly  word  than  could  Mr.  Skinner,  with  all 
his  threats,  nagging  and  driving,  yet  he  was  an  employer 
who  demanded  a  full  measure  of  service  and  never  per 
mitted  sentiment  to  plead  for  an  incompetent.  And  his 
ships  were  his  pets ;  in  his  affections  they  occupied  a 
position  but  one  degree  removed  from  that  occupied  by 
his  only  child,  in  consequence  of  which  he  was  mighty 
particular  who  hung  up  his  master's  ticket  in  the  cabin  of 
a  Blue  Star  ship.  Some  idea  of  the  scrupulous  care  with 
which  he  examined  all  applicants  for  a  skipper's  berth  may 
be  gleaned  from  the  fact  that  any  man  discharged  from 
a  Blue  Star  ship  stood  as  much  chance  of  obtaining  a 
berth  with  one  of  Cappy  Ricks'  competitors  as  a  celluloid 
dog  chasing  an  asbestos  cat  through  Hades. 

The  reader  will  readily  appreciate,  therefore,  the  appre 
hensions  which  assailed  Cappy  Ricks  when  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company  discovered  it  had  on  its  payroll 
one  Matthew  Peasley,  a  Nobody  from  Nowhere,  who  not 
only  had  the  insufferable  impudence  to  apply  for  a  job 
skippering  the  finest  windjammer  in  the  fleet,  but  when 
rebuffed  in  no  uncertain  terms,  refused  to  withdraw  his 
application,  and  defied  his  owners  to  fire  him.  Such  a 
preposterous  state  of  affairs  borders  so  closely  on  the 
realm  of  fancy  as  to  require  explanation ;  hence,  for  the 
nonce  let  us  leave  Cappy  Ricks  and  Mr.  Skinner  t  ^  their 
sordid  task  of  squeezing  dividends  out  of  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company  and  turn  the  searchlight  of  inquiry 
upon  the  amazing  Matthew. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  MAN  FROM  BLUE  WATEB 

IF,  instead  of  advancing  the  theory  that  man  sprang 
from  a  monkey,  Darwin  had  elected  to  nominate  the  duck 
for  that  dubious  honor,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  he 
would  have  pointed  to  the  Peasley  family,  of  Thomaston, 
Maine,  as  evidence  of  the  correctness  of  his  theory  of 
evolution.  The  most  casual  student  of  natural  history 
knows  that  the  instant  a  duckling  chips  its  shell  it  toddles 
straightway  to  the  nearest  water.  The  instant  a  male 
Peasley  could  cut  his  mother's  apron  strings,  he,  also, 
made  for  the  nearest  water,  for  the  Peasleys  had  always 
been  sailors,  a  statement  which  a  perusal  of  the  tomb 
stones  in  Thomaston  cemetery  will  amply  justify.  Indeed, 
a  Peasley  who  had  not  acquired  his  master's  ticket 
prior  to  his  twenty-fifth  birthday  was  one  of  two  things — 
a  disgrace  to  the  family  or  a  corpse.  Consequently,  since 
the  traditions  of  his  tribe  were  very  strong  in  Matthew 
Peasley  VI,  it  occasioned  no  comment  in  Thomaston  when, 
having  acquired  a  grammar  school  education,  he  answered 
the  call  of  his  destiny  and  fared  forth  to  blue  water  and 
his  first  taste  of  dog's  body  and  salt  horse. 

When  he  was  fourteen  years  old  and  very  large  for 
his  age,  Matt  commenced  his  apprenticeship  in  a  codfisher 
on  the  Grand  Banks,  which,  when  all  is  said  and  done, 
constitutes  the  finest  training  school  in  the  world  for 
sailors.  By  the  time  he  was  seventeen  he  had  made  one 

13 


14  CAPPY    RICKS 

voyage  to  Rio  de  Janeiro  in  a  big  square-rigger  out  of 
Portland ;  and  so  smart  and  capable  an  A.  B.  was  he  for 
his  years  that  the  Old  Man  took  a  shine  to  him.  Confi 
dentially  he  informed  young  Matt  that  if  the  latter  would 
stay  by  the  ship,  in  due  course  a  billet  as  third  mate 
should  be  the  reward  of  his  fealty.  The  Old  Man  didn't 
need  a  third  mate  any  more  than  he  needed  a  tail,  but 
Matt  Peasley  looked  like  a  comer  to  him  and  he  wanted 
an  excuse  to  encourage  the  boy  by  berthing  him  aft :  also 
it  sounds  far  better  to  be  known  as  a  third  mate  instead 
of  a  mate's  bosun,  which  was,  in  reality,  the  position  the 
Old  Man  had  promised  Matt.  The  latter  promptly  agreed 
to  this  program  and  the  skipper  loaned  him  his  copy  of 
Bowditch. 

Upon  his  return  from  his  first  voyage  as  third  mate 
Matt  went  up  for  his  second  mate's  certificate  and  passed 
very  handily.  Naturally  he  expected  prompt  promotion, 
but  the  Old  Man  knew  the  value  of  experience  in  a  second 
mate — also  the  value  of  years  and  physical  weight;  so 
he  informed  young  Matt  he  was  entirely  too  precocious 
and  that  to  sail  as  second  mate  before  he  was  nineteen 
might  tend  to  swell  his  ego.  Consequently  Matt  made  a 
voyage  to  Liverpool  and  back  as  third  mate  before  the 
Old  Man  promoted  him. 

For  a  year  Matt  Peasley  did  nicely ;  then,  in  a  gale  off 
the  Orinoco  river,  with  the  captain  too  ill  to  appear  on 
deck,  the  first  mate  went  by  the  board,  leaving  the 
command  of  the  ship  to  young  Matt.  She  was  dismasted 
at  the  time,  but  the  lad  brought  her  into  Rio  on  the 
stumps,  thus  attracting  some  little  attention  to  himself 
from  his  owners,  who  paid  his  passage  back  to  Portland  by 
steamer  and  found  a  second  mate's  berth  for  him  in  one  of 
their  clipper  ships  bound  round  the  Horn. 


THE  MAN  FROM  BLUE  WATER        15 

Of  course  Matt  was  too  young  to  know  they  had  their 
eyes  on  him  for  future  skipper  material  and  were  sending 
him  around  Cape  Horn  for  the  invaluable  experience  he 
would  encounter  on  such  a  voyage.  All  he  realized  was 
that  he  was  going  round  the  Horn,  as  became  one  of  the 
House  of  Peasley,  no  member  of  which  would  ever  regard 
him  as  a  real  sailor  until  he  could  point  to  a  Cape  Horn 
diploma  as  evidence  that  he  had  graduated  from  the 
school  for  amateurs. 

Matt  Peasley  lacked  two  months  of  his  twentieth  birth 
day  when  he  stepped  onto  a  San  Francisco  dock,  in  his 
pocket  a  highly  complimentary  discharge  as  second  mate 
from  the  master  of  the  clipper  ship — for  Matt  had  elected 
to  quit.  In  fact,  he  had  to,  for  on  the  way  round  the  mate 
had  picked  on  him  and  called  him  Sonny  and  Mother's 
Darling  Boy;  and  Matt,  having,  in  the  terminology 
of  the  forecastle,  come  aboard  through  the  hawse  pipes, 
knew  himself  for  a  man  and  a  sailor,  despite  the  paucity 
of  whiskers  on  his  big,  square  boyish  chin. 

Accordingly  he  had  advised  the  mate  to  address  him 
only  in  the  line  of  duty,  on  which  occasions  he  desired  to 
be  referred  to  as  Mr.  Peasley ;  and,  the  mate  demurring 
to  this  program,  the  customary  maritime  fracas  had 
ensued.  Consequently,  somebody  had  to  quit  on  arrival  at 
San  Francisco ;  and  since  Matt  was  the  last  to  come,  he 
was  the  first  to  go.  On  the  strength  of  his  two  previous 
discharges  he  shipped  as  second  mate  on  the  bark  Andrew 
Welch,  for  a  voyage  to  Honolulu  and  back;  then,  his 
services  as  second  mate  being  all  in,  he  went  before  the 
inspectors  for  his  first  mate's  ticket  and  was  awarded  an 
unlimited  license. 

Matt  was  now  past  twenty ;  and,  though  not  fully  filled 
out,  he  was  big  enough  to  be  a  chief  kicker  anywhere.  Six 


1 6  CAPPY    RICKS 

feet  three  in  his  bare  feet;  two  hundred  pounds  in  tKe 
buff;  lean,  lithe  and  supple  as  a  panther,  the  mere  sight 
of  his  big  lumpy  shoulders  would  have  been  sufficient  to 
have  quelled  an  incipient  mutiny.  Nevertheless,  graduate 
that  he  was  of  a  hard,  hard  school,  his  face  was  that 
of  an  innocent,  trusting,  good-natured,  immature  boy, 
proclaiming  him  exactly  what  he  knew  his  men  called  him — 
a  big,  over-grown  kid.  He  hated  himself  for  his  glor 
ious  youth. 

"You're  pretty  much  of  a  child  to  have  an  unlimited 
ticket,  my  son,"  the  supervising  inspector  informed  him. 
"However,  you've  had  the  experience  and  your  record  is 
far  above  the  average,  so  we're  going  to  issue  the  license ; 
but  if  you'll  take  a  bit  of  advice  from  an  old  sailor 
you'll  be  content  to  go  as  second  mate  for  a  year  or  two 
more,  until  your  jowls  blacken  up  a  bit  and  you  get  a 
trifle  thicker  in  the  middle." 

With  the  impudence  and  irreverance  of  his  tender  years, 
however,  Matt  Peasley  scorned  this  well-meant  advice, 
notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  knew  it  to  be  sound,  for 
by  shipping  as  second  mate  and  remaining  in  the  same 
ship,  sooner  or  later  his  chance  would  come.  The  first 
mate  would  quit,  or  be  promoted  or  drowned,  or  get 
drunk;  and  then  his  shoes  would  be  waiting  for  Matt 
tried  and  true,  and  the  holder  of  a  first  mate's  ticket. 

However,  there  is  an  old  saw  to  the  effect  that  youth 
must  be  served,  and  young  Matt  desired  a  helping  totally 
disproportionate  to  his  years,  if  not  to  his  experience; 
hence  he  elected  to  ignore  the  fact  that  shipmasters  are 
wary  of  chief  mates  until  they  have  first  tried  them  out 
as  second  mates  and  learned  their  strength  and  their 
weaknesses.  Being  very  human,  Matt  thought  he  should 
prove  the  exception  to  a  fairly  hard-and-fast  rule. 


THE  MAN  FROM  BLUE  WATER        17 

He  had  slept  one  night  on  a  covered  dock  and  skipped 
three  meals  before  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  pursued 
the  wrong  tactics.  He  was  too  far  from  Thomaston, 
Maine,  where  the  majority  of  sailors  have  gone  to  school 
with  their  captains.  Back  home  there  were  a  dozen 
masters  who  knew  his  people,  who  knew  him  and  his  proved 
ability;  but  out  here  on  the  Pacific  Coast  the  skippers 
were  nearly  all  Scandinavians,  and  Matt  had  to  show 
them  something  besides  his  documents. 

He  had  failed  signally  to  procure  a  single  opportunity 
to  demonstrate  his  fitness  for  an  executive  position.  After 
abandoning  his  plan  to  ship  as  chief  mate  he  had  sought 
a  second  mate's  berth,  but  failing  to  find  one,  and  with 
each  idle  day  making  deeper  inroads  into  his  scant  savings, 
he  had  at  length  descended  to  the  ignominy  of  considering 
a  job  as  bosun.  Even  that  was  not  forthcoming,  and 
now  his  money  was  entirely  dissipated. 

Now,  when  a  big  overgrown  kid  finds  himself  penniless 
three  thousand  miles  from  a  friend  and  minus  three  meals 
in  succession,  the  fourth  omission  of  the  daily  bread  is 
not  likely  to  pass  without  violent  protest.  Matt  was 
still  a  growing  boy,  with  a  growing  boy's  appetite;  con 
sequently  on  the  morning  of  his  second  day  of  fasting 
he  came  to  the  conclusion  that,  with  so  much  of  his  life 
before  him,  a  few  months  wasted  would,  after  all,  have 
no  material  bearing  on  his  future;  so  he  accepted  a  two 
months'  advance  from  a  crimp  and  shipped  aboard  the 
American  barkentine  Retriever  as  a  common  A.B. — a 
most  disgraceful  action  on  the  part  of  a  boy,  who,  since 
his  eighteenth  birthday,  had  been  used  to  having  old 
sailors  touch  their  foretop  to  him  and  address  him  as  "Mr. 
Peasley,  sir." 


CHAPTER    III 

UNDER    THE    BLUE    STAE    FLAG 

MATT  had  been  attracted  to  the  barkentine  Retriever 
for  two  very  potent  reasons — the  first  was  a  delicious 
odor  of  stew  emanating  from  her  galley ;  the  second  was 
her  house  flag,  a  single  large,  five-pointed  blue  star  on  a 
field  of  white  with  scarlet  trimming.  Garnished  left  and 
right  with  a  golden  wreath  and  below  with  the  word 
Captain,  Matt  Peasley  knew  that  house  flag,  in  miniature, 
would  look  exceedingly  well  on  the  front  of  a  uniform  cap  ; 
for  he  now  made  up  his  mind  to  enter  one  service  and  stick 
to  it  until  his  abilities  should  receive  their  inevitable 
reward.  To  ship  as  a  foremast  hand  and  rise  to  captain 
would  be  a  proud  record;  so  Matt  throttled  his  pride  and 
faced  the  future  with  confidence,  and  a  stomach  quite 
filled  with  very  good  beef  stew. 

From  the  cook  he  learned  that  the  Retriever  carried 
a  million  feet  of  lumber;  that  she  was  owned  by  Cappy 
Ricks ;  that  Cappy  Ricks  was  the  president  of  the  Blue 
Star  Navigation  Company,  and  the  most  contemptible 
old  scoundrel  in  all  the  world;  that  the  skipper  was  a 
blue-nose  and  a  devil  and  a  fine  man  rolled  into  one ;  that 
the  barkent:ne  could  sail  like  a  yacht ;  and  that  presently 
they  would  up-hook  and  off  to  Grays  Harbor,  Washing 
ton,  there  to  load  a  cargo  of  fir  lumber  for  Cape  Town. 
And  would  Matt  mind  slipping  ashore  and  buying  the 
cook  a  bottle  of  whiskey,  for  which  the  latter  would  settle 

18 


UNDER  THE  BLUE  STAR  FLAG    19" 

with  him  the  very  minute  he  could  get  an  advance  out 
of  the  Old  Man.  No?  Disgusted,  the  cook  rattled  his 
pans  and  dismissed  Matt  as  one  unworthy  of  further 
confidence. 

Just  before  the  tug  came  alongside  to  snake  her  out 
side  the  Heads,  the  mate  came  aboard  with  his  leerail 
pretty  well  under  and  was  indiscreet  enough  to  toss  a  piece 
of  his  lip  at  the  Old  Man.  Five  minutes  later  he  was  paid 
off  and  kicked  out  on  the  dock,  while  the  cook  packed 
his  sea  bag  and  tossed  it  overside  after  him.  The  captain, 
thereupon,  bawled  for  the  second  mate,  who  came  running. 
Matt  noticed  this  and  decided  that  should  the  Old  Man 
ever  bawl  for  him  he  would  come  running  too. 

"Mr.  Swenson,  you  have  a  chief  mate's  license,  have  you 
not?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Very  well.  You're  the  first  mate.  Mr.  Lindstrom" — 
turning  to  the  bosun — "you've  waited  a  year  for  your 
chance,  and  here  it  is.  You're  the  second  mate.  Bosun !" 
He  was  looking  straight  at  Matt  Peasley  as  he  spoke. 
Matt  did  not  stir.  "Hey,  there,"  the  skipper  roared,  "you 
big  mountain  of  meat,  step  lively!" 

Matt  stepped  lively. 

"I  am  not  the  bosun,  sir,"  he  explained.  "I'm  just 
an  A.B." 

"How  dare  you  contradict  me?"  the  Old  Man  growled. 
"I  tell  you,  you  don't  know  what  you  are  yet,  barring  the 
fact  that  you're  an  American,  and  the  only  one,  with  the 
exception  of  myself,  in  the  whole  damned  Scowegian  crew. 
Do  you  think  you  could  get  away  with  a  bosun's  job?" 

"I  could  get  away  with  your  job  if  I  had  the  chance, 
sir,"  Matt  declared,  almost  impudently. 

"There  she  blows !"  the  Old  Man  declared.     "Bless  me, 


20  GAPPY    RICKS 

if  you're  not  a  Native  Son!  Nobody  but  a  Native  Son 
would  be  that  fresh.  I  suppose  this  is  your  second  voyage, 
you  puling  baby?" 

Matt  Peasley's  dander  was  up  instantly. 

"I'm  sailor  enough  to  know  my  way  alow  or  aloft  in 
any  weather,  sir,"  he  retorted. 

The  captain  saw  his  opening  and  struck. 

"What's  the  ring-tail?"  he  demanded. 

"It's  a  studdin'-s'l  on  the  gaff  of  a  fore-an'-aft  sail,  sir. 
You  haven't  got  one  on  the  Retriever,  sir." 

"Huh!  You've  been  reading  W.  Clark  Russell's  sea 
yarns,"  the  skipper  charged.  "He  was  quite  a  pen-an'- 
paper  sailor  when  it  came  to  square-rigged  ships,  but  ho 
didn't  have  much  to  say  about  six-masted  schooners.  You 
see,  they  didn't  build  them  in  his  day.  Now  then,  son, 
name  the  sticks  on  a  six-legged  schooner,  and  be  sure  and 
name  'em  right." 

"Fore,  main,  mizzen,  spanker,  jigger  and  driver,  sir," 
Matt  fired  back  at  him. 

"Bully  for  you,  my  son.  You're  the  third  mate.  Cappy 
Ricks  allows  me  the  luxury  of  a  third  mate  whenever  I 
run  across  a  young  fellow  that  appears  to  be  worth  a 
whoop  in  hell,  so  grab  your  duds,  and  go  aft,  and  don't 
bring  any  cockroaches  with  you.  I'll  dig  up  a  bosun 
among  the  squareheads." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"Name?" 

"Mr.  Peasley,  sir." 

Since  he  was  no  longer  an  A.B.,  young  Matt  concluded 
he  might  as  well  accord  himself  the  respect  due  him  as  a 
ship's  officer;  so  he  tacked  on  the  Mister,  just  to  show  the 
Old  Man  he  knew  his  place.  The  master  noted  that ;  also, 
the  slurring  of  the  sir  as  only  a  sailor  can  slur  it. 


UNDER  THE  BLUE  STAR  FLAG        21 

"I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you'd  do,"  he  remarked  as  Matt 
passed  him  on  his  way  to  the  forecastle  for  his  dunnage. 

On  his  way  back  he  carried  his  bag  over  his  shoulder 
und  his  framed  license  in  his  left  hand.  Two  savages 
were  following  with  his  sea  chest. 

"Well,  I  do  declare !"  the  skipper  cried.  "If  that  lub 
berly  boy  hasn't  got  some  sort  of  a  ticket!  Let  me  see 
it,  Mr.  Peasley."  And  he  snatched  it  out  of  his  grasp. 

"So  you're  a  first  mate  of  sail,  for  any  ocean  and  any 
tonnage,  eh?"  he  said  presently.  "Are  you  sure  this  ticket 
doesn't  belong  to  your  father?" 

"Sir,"  declared  the  exasperated  Matt,  "I  never  asked 
you  for  this  job  of  third  mate;  and  if  I've  got  to  stomach 
your  insults  to  hold  it  down  I  don't  want  it.  That's  my 
ticket  and  I'm  fully  capable  of  living  up  to  it." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  that,  Mr.  Peasley,  because  if  you're 
not  I'll  be  the  first  one  to  find  it  out — and  don't  you  forget 
it !  I'll  have  no  marine  impostors  aboard  my  ship.  Where 
do  they  ship  little  boys  before  the  mast,  Mr.  Peasley?" 

"On  the  Grand  Banks,  sir." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  skipper;  "but  really  I 
thought  you  were  a  Native  Son.  My  father  was  drowned 
there  thirty  years  ago." 

"The  Peasleys  have  all  died  on  the  Banks,  sir,"  Matt 
replied,  much  mollified. 

"We'll  go  down  into  my  cabin  and  drink  a  toast  to  their 
memory,  Mr.  Peasley.  It  isn't  often  we  skippers  out 
here  meet  one  of  our  own." 

It  is  hard  for  a  Down-Easter,  even  though  he  may  have 
lost  the  speech  of  his  people,  not  to  be  partial  to  his  own ; 
and  Captain  Noah  Kendall,  of  the  barkentine  Retriever, 
was  all  the  cook  had  declared  him  to  be.  He  scolded  his 
Norsk  mates  so  bitterly  while  the  vessel  was  taking  on 


22  GAPPY    RICKS 

cargo  at  Grays  Harbor  that  both  came  and  asked  for 
their  time  an  hour  before  the  vessel  sailed.  However,  the 
old  man  was  aware  they  would  do  this,  for  he  had  handled 
that  breed  too  long  not  to  know  that  the  Scandinavian 
sailor  on  the  Pacific  Coast  quits  his  job  on  the  slightest 
pretext,  but  never  dreams  of  leaving  until  he  knows  that 
by  so  doing  he  can  embarrass  the  master  or  owners. 
Even  if  the  mates  had  not  quit,  Kendall  would  have  dis 
charged  them,  for  it  had  been  in  his  mind  to  try  Matt 
Peasley  out  as  chief  mate,  and  acquire  a  second  mate 
with  a  sweeter  disposition  than  that  possessed  by  the  late 
incumbent. 

No  sooner  had  the  Norsk  mates  departed  than  Captain 
Noah  Kendall  paid  a  visit  to  Captain  McBride  in  com 
mand  of  the  schooner  Nokomis  (also  a  Blue  Star  vessel), 
which  had  arrived  that  day  and  was  waiting  for  the  Re 
triever's  berth  at  the  mill  dock,  in  order  to  commence 
loading. 

"Mac,"  quoth  Captain  Noah,  "what  kind  of  a  second 
mate  have  you  got?" 

"A  no-good  Irish  hound  named  Murphy,"  McBride  re 
plied  promptly,  for  he  had  heard  rumors  of  war  aboard 
the  Retriever  and  something  told  him  Kendall  had  come 
to  borrow  his  second  mate,  in  order  that  the  Retriever 
might  tow  out  immediately.  A  canny,  cunning  lad  way 
McBride,  but  for  all  his  Scotch  blood  he  was  no  match 
for  Captain  Noah  Kendall. 

"I  heard  he  wasn't  worth  two  squirts  of  bilge  water," 
Captain  Noah  lied  glibly.  "However,  I'll  take  him  off 
your  hands  and  reimburse  you  for  the  expense  of  bringing 
his  successor  down  from  Seattle  or  up  from  San  Francisco. 
My  two  mates  have  just  asked  to  be  paid  off,  and  despite 
the  fact  that  they  have  signed  articles,  I've  let  them  go. 


UNDER  THE  BLUE  STAR  FLAG        23 

No  use  going  to  sea  with  a  pair  of  sulky  mates,  you 
know.  Fortunately,  I  had  a  young  Down-Easter  aboard 
and  I've  put  him  in  as  first  mate " 

"Noah,"  urged  McBride.  "I  wouldn't  advise  you  to 
take  this  man  Murphy." 

"Beggars  can't  be  choosers,"  Captain  Noah  replied 
mournfully.  "The  tide  serves  in  half  an  hour  and  the 
tug's  alongside  the  Retriever  now.  If  I  have  to  wire  to 
Seattle  for  a  second  mate  I  may  not  be  able  to  get  one — 
and  if  I  am  forced  to  wire  to  San  Francisco  I  may  be 
stuck  here  a  week.  I've  shipped  my  crew  and  paid  them 
all  in  advance,  and  if  I  don't  get  to  sea  in  an  hour  I'll 
lose  every  man  Jack  of  them,  and  have  it  all  to  do  over 
again." 

"Well,  I'll  speak  to  the  fellow  for  you,  Noah,"  McBride 
suggested,  and  darted  out  of  the  cabin  to  interview  the 
said  Murphy.  Two  minutes  later  he  was  back. 

"Sorry,  Noah,  but  Murphy  says  he  wouldn't  sign  up 
for  a  trip  to  Cape  Town  at  chief  mate's  wages." 

"I'm  sorry,  too,  Mac,"  Captain  Noah  answered  re 
signedly.  "I'm  sorry  you're  such  a  liar.  My  grief  is 
only  compensated  by  the  knowledge  that  Murphy  is  not 
aboard  the  Nokomis  at  this  minute,  and,  if  you  did  any 
talking  while  you  were  out  on  deck  a  minute  ago  you  must 
have  talked  to  yourself.  Do  I  get  this  man  Murphy  and 
thus  save  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  five  hundred 
dollars  or  must  I  wire  Cappy  Ricks  to  wire  you  to  do  your 
duty  by  the  company?" 

"You  infernal  thief,"  shouted  McBride,  "you're  taking 
the  best  second  mate  I've  had  in  years." 

"Never  mind  that.  Do  I  get  Mike  Murphy  peaceably 
or " 

"You've  got  him  already,"  McBride  charged. 


£4  CAPPY    RICKS 

"You're  better  at  telling  the  truth  than  you  are  at 
lying,  Angus  McBride.  You'll  have  plenty  of  time  to  get 
a  second  mate  while  the  Nokomis  is  loading,  and  you  can 
send  the  bill  for  his  railroad  fare  to  Cappy  Ricks  and 
tell  him  to  charge  it  to  the  Retriever." 

McBride  tried  to  appear  aggrieved,  but  failed.  He 
burst  out  laughing,  and  reached  for  the  locker  in  which 
he  kept  the  schooner's  supply  of  grog. 

"Would  it  was  prussic  acid,"  he  growled. 

"Don't  say  I  went  behind  your  back  and  stole  your 
mate,"  Kendall  retorted.  "And  if  your  second  mate  is 
as  poor  as  your  whiskey,"  he  added,  piling  insult  on  to 
injury,  "you  can  have  him  back  when  I  return  from  Cape 
Town." 

Matt  Peasley  felt  that  he  was  going  to  like  Michael  J. 
Murphy.  The  latter  was  Irish,  but  he  had  left  Ireland 
at  a  very  tender  age  and  was,  to  all  intents  and  purposes, 
a  breezy  American  citizen,  and  while  he  wore  a  slight  cauli 
flower  in  one  ear,  his  broad,  kindly  humorous  face  and 
alert,  bustling  manner  was  assurance  that  he  would  be 
an  easy  man  to  get  along  with.  When  the  Old  Man 
introduced  him  to  Matt,  he  extended  a  horny  right  hand 
that  closed  on  Matt's  like  the  jaws  of  a  dredger,  the 
while  he  ran  an  equally  horny  left  hand  up  and  down  the 
chief  mate's  arm. 

"I'm  sure  we'll  get  along  famously  together,  Mr.  Mur 
phy,"  Matt  suggested. 

Again  Mr.  Murphy  ran  his  hand  over  that  great  arm. 

"You  know  it !"  he  declared  with  conviction. 

Captain  Noah  laughed  aloud,  and  as  Matt  scampered 
forward  over  the  deckload,  herding  his  savages  before 
him,  to  receive  the  tug's  breast  line  and  make  it  fast  on 
|he  bitts  the  skipper  turned  to  Mr.  Murphy. 


UNDER  THE  BLUE  STAR  FLAG        25 

"There's  a  lad  for  3rou,"  he  declared. 

"He  has  manners  and  muscle,  and  those  are  two  things 
that  seldom  go  together."  Mr.  Murphy  rejoined.  "He's 
a  Down-Easter,  I  see.  Did  Gappy  Ricks  send  him  to  you, 
sir?" 

"No — not  that  he  wouldn't,  however,  if  he'd  ever  met 
the  boy.  The  crimp  brought  him  aboard  with  the  sweep 
ings  and  scrapings  of  San  Francisco." 

"I  hope  he  wasn't  drunk — like  the  rest,"  Mr.  Murphy 
answered  anxiously.  "  'Twould  be  a  sin  to  desecrate  that 
lovely  body  with  whiskey." 

"He  was  bung  up  and  bilge  free — and  that's  why  he's 
chief  kicker  now.  The  hawser's  fast  for'd,  Mr.  Murphy. 
Cast  off  your  stern  line." 

"All  clear  for'd,  sir,"  Matt  Peasley's  shout  came  ringing 
down  the  wind,  and  the  tug  snatched  the  big  barkentine 
out  from  the  mill  dock  into  the  stream  where  she  cast 
her  off,  put  her  big  towing  hawser  aboard,  paid  it  out  and 
started  for  Grays  Harbor  bar. 


CHAPTER    IV 

BAD    NEWS    FROM    CAPE    TOWN 

ON  a  certain  day  in  February  Mr.  Skinner,  coming  into 
Cappy  Ricks'  office  with  a  cablegram  in  his  hand,  found 
his  employer  doubled  up  at  his  desk  and  laughing  in 
senile  glee. 

"I  have  a  cablegram "  Mr.  Skinner  began. 

"I  have  a  good  story,"  Cappy  interrupted.  "Let  me 
tell  it  to  you,  Skinner.  Oh,  dear!  I  believe  this  is  about 
going  to  kill  the  boys  up  on  'Change  when  I  tell  them." 
He  wiped  his  eyes,  controlled  his  mirth  and  turned  to  the 
general  manager.  "Skinner,"  he  said,  "did  you  know  I 
had  gotten  back  into  the  harness  while  you  were  up  at 
the  Astoria  mill?  Well  I  did,  Skinner.  I  had  to,  you 
know.  If  it  was  the  last  act  of  my  life  I  had  to  square 
accounts  with  that  man  Hudner,  of  the  Black  Butte 
Lumber  Company." 

Mr.  Skinner  nodded.  He  was  aware  of  the  feud  that 
existed  between  Cappy  and  Hudner,  and  the  reasons  there 
for.  The  latter  had  stolen  from  Cappy  a  stenographer 
who  had  grown  to  spinsterhood  in  his  employ — one  of 
those  rare  stenographers  who  do  half  a  man's  thinking  for 
him.  Cappy  always  paid  a  little  more  than  the  top  of 
the  market  for  clever  service;  and  whenever  a  competitor 
stole  one  of  his  favorite  employees,  sooner  or  later  that 
competitor  paid  for  his  sins,  "through  the  nose." 

"While  you  were  away,"  Cappy  went  on,  "I  met  Hud- 

26 


BAD  NEWS  FROM  CAPE  TOWN        27 

ner  at  luncheon.  *Hudner,'  I  said,  'It's  been  my  experience 
that  nobody  gets  anything  good  in  this  world  without 
paying  for  it — and  you  stole  the  finest  stenographer  I 
ever  had.  So  I'm  going  to  make  you  pay  for  her.  See 
if  I  don't.'  Well,  sir,  Skinner,  he  laughed  at  me  and  told 
me  to  go  as  far  as  I  liked ;  and,  a  number  of  my  youthful 
friends  being  present,  they  each  bet  Hudner  a  five-dollar 
hat  I'd  hang  his  hide  on  my  fence  within  sixty  days. 

"Well,  Skinner,  you  know  me.  Any  time  it's  raining 
duck  soup  you'll  never  catch  me  out  with  a  fork ;  and,  of 
course,  when  the  boys  showed  such  faith  in  my  ability 
to  trim  Hudner  I  had  to  make  good.  I  have  a  letter 
from  Hudner  to  prove  it;  and  to-day  at  luncheon,  when 
we're  all  gathered  at  the  Round  Table,  I'm  going  to  read 
that  letter  and  my  reply  to  the  same ;  and  Hudner  will 
have  fifty  dollars'  worth  of  hat  bills  to  pay!" 

"How  did  you  tan  his  pelt?"  Skinner  queried. 

"Easy!  While  you  were  away  I  chartered  his  steamer 
Chehalis  for  a  load  of  redwood  lumber  from  Humboldt 
Bay  to  San  Francisco  at  three  dollars  and  a  half  a  thou 
sand  feet.  Of  course,  you  know  a  boat  like  the  Chehalis, 
with  a  big  pay-roll,  will  break  just  even  on  such  a  low 
freight  rate;  but  inasmuch  as  he  was  going  to  lay  the 
Chehalis  up  in  Oakland  Creek,  owing  to  lack  of  business, 
when  I  offered  him  a  load  of  redwood  he  concluded  to  take 
it,  just  to  keep  the  vessel  moving  and  pay  expenses.  I 
stipulated  discharge  in  San  Francisco  Bay. 

"Well,  sir,  when  the  Chehalis  got  to  our  mill,  Skinner, 
I  ordered  them  to  load  her  with  sinkers — oh !  oh,  this  will 
be  the  death  of  me  yet,  Skinner.  And  we  gave  her  poor 
dispatch  in  loading.  Then  she  had  to  lay  behind  the  bar 
two  days  longer  before  she  could  cross  out;  and  when  she 
got  here  I  ordered  her  to  discharge  into  the  British  bark 


28  CAPPY    RICKS 

Glengarry — and  discharging  from  one  vessel  into  another 
is  the  slowest  work  in  the  world.  And  Hudner — he's — 
written — me,  Skinner,  declaring  he'll  never  charter  a  boat 
to  me  again;  says  the  Chehalis  lost  two  thousand  dollars 
on  the  voyage."  And  Cappy  went  off  into  a  gale  of  laugh 
ter,  and  handed  Skinner  the  letter  to  read. 

For  the  benefit  of  the  reader,  who  may  desire  a  close:* 
insight  into  Cappy's  Machiavellian  nature,  be  it  known 
that  a  sinker  is  a  heavy,  close-grained  clear  redwood  butt- 
log,  which,  if  cut  in  the  spring,  when  the  tree  is  alive  with 
sap,  is  so  heavy  it  will  not  float  in  the  millpond;  hence 
the  term  sinker.  A  vessel  laden  with  lumber  sawed  from 
sinkers,  therefore,  will  carry  just  fifty  per  cent,  of  her 
customary  cargo ;  and  unless  the  freight  rate  be  extremely 
high,  she  cannot  make  money. 

"Do  you  know,  Skinner,"  Cappy  announced  presently, 
"I  think  you'd  better  hunt  up  a  steady  job  for  me! 
Dadding  it,  boy,  I  never  knew  there  was  so  much  fun  in 
business  until  I  had  practically  retired !  Really,  Skinner, 
I  must  take  more  interest  in  my  affairs." 

"Here's  something  to  sharpen  your  teeth  on,  Mr. 
Ricks,"  the  general  manager  replied,  and  presented  the 
cablegram  he  had  been  holding  for  five  minutes. 

Cappy  took  it  and  read,  thereby  becoming  aware  for 
the  first  time,  that  he  had  in  his  employ  an  individual  by 
the  name  of  Matthew  Peasley. 

Cape  Town,  February  15, . 

Eluestar,  San  Francisco: 

Captain    knifed    Kru    boy    argument  boat  fare. 
Instruct  consignees  honor  rny  drafts  as  captain. 

Matthew  Peasley,  Mate. 


BAD  NEWS  FROM  CAPE  TOWN        29 

"The  murdering  black  hound!"  Gappy  murmured  in 
an  awed  voice.  "If  he  hasn't  gone  and  killed  the  best 
skipper  I  ever  had!  Poor  Kendall!  Why,  Noah  and  I 
were  good  friends,  Skinner.  Every  time  the  Retriever 
touched  in  at  her  home  port  I  always  had  Noah  Kendall 
up  to  the  house  for  dinner,  and  we  went  to  the  theatre 
together  afterward.  Thank  God!  It  isn't  a  week  since 
his  life-insurance  premium  fell  due  and  I  had  the  cashier 
pay  it." 

Gappy  sat  gazing  dejectedly  at  the  carpet. 

"Poor  old  Cap'n  Noah!"  he  soliloquized  aloud. 
"Twenty-five  years  you  sailed  under  the  Blue  Star,  and 
in  all  that  time  there  was  never  once  when  I  had  to  jack 
you  up  and  tell  you  to  'tend  to  business.  And,  Noah,  you 
could  make  a  suit  of  sails  last  longer  than  any  man  I 
ever  knew;  but  you  did  have  a  hell  of  a  temper."  And 
having  delivered  this  touching  eulogy  on  the  late  Captain 
Kendall,  Cappy  roused  himself  and  faced  Skinner. 

"I  should  say  I  have  a  job  on  my  hands,"  he  announced, 
"with  the  finest  sailing  ship  in  the  fleet  down  in  South 
Africa  without  a  skipper!  Skinner,  I'll  tell  you  what 
you  do,  my  boy :  You  dictate  .the  nicest  letter  you  know 
how  to  dictate  to  Noah's  widow,  up  in  Port  Townsend. 
Tell  her  how  much  we  thought  of  Noah  and  extend  our 
sympathy,  and  a  check  for  his  next  three  months'  salary. 
Put  her  on  my  private  pension  list,  Skinner,  and  send  her 
Cap'n  Noah's  salary  every  quarter-day  as  long  as  she 
lives.  Tell  her  we'll  attend  to  the  collection  of  the  life 
insurance  and  will  bring  Noah's  body  home  to  Port  Town- 
send  at  our  own  expense.  It's  the  least  we  can  do,  Skinner. 
He  was  the  only  skipper  I  ever  had  who  did  not,  at  one 
time  or  another,  manage  to  embroil  me  in  a  lawsuit.  Who 
are  our  consignees  at  Cape  Town?" 


y>  CAPPY    RICKS 

"The  Harlow  &  Benton  Company,  Limited." 
"Cable  them  for  confirmation  of  the  mate's  message, 
and  request  them  to  have  Cap'n  Noah's  body  exnbabned 
and  shipped  to  Port  Townsend,   Washington,  prepaid, 
deducting  charges  from  our  invoice." 


CHAPTER   V 

MATT    PEASLEY    ASSUMES    OFFICE 

THE  death  of  Captain  Noah  Kendall,  while  profoundly 
deplored  by  his  next  in  command,  first  mate  Matthew 
Peasley,  had  not  been  permitted  by  that  brisk  young  man 
to  interfere  in  the  least  with  the  task  of  getting  the  cargo 
out  of  the  Retriever,  for  sailoring,  like  soldiering,  is  a 
profession  in  which  sentiment  is  a  secondary  consideration. 
Each  day  of  demurrage  to  a  ship  like  the  Retriever,  even 
at  the  prevailing  low  freight  rate,  meant  a  loss  of  at  least 
a  hundred  dollars  to  the  owners,  and  since  navigating  a 
ship  safely  and  expeditiously  is  the  least  of  a  good 
skipper's  duties,  and  since,  further,  Matt  Peasley  was 
determined  to  be  a  skipper  in  the  not  very  distant  future, 
he  concluded  to  give  his  owners  evidence  of  the  fact  that 
he  was,  in  addition  to  being  a  navigator,  also  a  first-class 
"hustler."  If  the  Retriever  made  a  loss  on  that  voyage 
he  was  resolved  that  no  blame  should  attach  to  him. 

"Skipper's  dead,  Mike,"  he  announced  to  Mr.  Murphy, 
the  second  mate.  "Policeman  in  a  small  boat  alongside 
says  the  old  man  got  into  a  row  with  the  Kru  boy  that 
rowed  him  ashore  and  the  black  scoundrel  skewered  him. 
I'm  going  ashore  to  look  after  his  body  and  order  a  tug 
to  kick  us  into  our  berth.  I  guess  the  old  man  didn't  get 
time  to  attend  to  the  business  that  brought  him  ashore, 
poor  fellow!" 

"Very  well,  sir,"  Mr.  Murphy  replied,  and  murmured 


32  CAPPY    RICKS 

•ome  commonplace  expression  of  regret.  He  was  not 
particularly  shocked,  for  he  had  lost  shipmates  in  a  hurry 
before  now. 

Matt  Peasley  proceeded  to  the  beach,  attended  to  the 
necessary  details  incident  to  the  skipper's  untimely 
removal,  was  informed  by  the  Harlow  &  Benton  Company, 
Limited,  of  the  location  of  the  berth  he  was  to  discharge, 
ordered  a  tug  for  that  afternoon,  went  to  the  cable  office, 
registered  his  cable  address,  sent  a  cablegram  to  the 
owners  and  returned  to  the  ship. 

"Well,  Mike,"  he  announced  to  the  second  mate,  "I 
guess  I'm  the  skipper ;  following  the  same  line  of  deduction, 
I  guess  you're  the  chief  mate,  so  I'll  move  my  dunnage 
into  the  old  man's  cabin  and  you  move  into  mine.  I'll 
pick  up  a  second  mate  in  Cape  Town  before  we  leave." 

Mr.  Murphy  eyed  his  youthful  superior  with  mild 
curiosity,  not  untempered  with  amusement.  "Thank  you 
for  the  promotion,  Captain  Matt,"  he  replied.  "However, 
if  you'll  excuse  my  apparent  impudence  on  the  grounds 
that  I'm  about  fifteen  years  older  than  you  and  have  been 
longer  in  the  Blue  Star  employ,  I'd  like  to  make  a 
suggestion." 

"Fire  away,  Mike." 

Mr.  Murphy  hitched  his  belt,  walked  to  the  rail,  spat 
tobacco  juice  from  between  his  fingers  and  came  back. 
"You're  the  youngest  chief  mate  I've  ever  seen,  and  this 
is  your  first  berth  in  that  capacity,"  he  began,  "Suppose 
you  hang  on  to  it  and  don't  be  so  infernally  generous." 

"But  you  have  a  first  mate's  license,  haven't  you?" 

"Certainly.     But " 

"No  if s  or  buts,  Mike.  The  skipper's  dead ;  I  was  first 
mate;  consequently  I  take  command  of  the  ship,  and  by 
rirtue  of  my  authority  I  appoint  you  first  mate.  That 


MATT  PEASLEY  ASSUMES  OFFICE     33 

goes.  You'll  do  one  of  two  things,  Mike.  You'll  be  first 
mate  or  get  out  of  the  ship." 

Michael  J.  Murphy  grinned.    "You  mean  that?" 

"Naturally." 

"If  you  stick  by  that  determination  you'll  find  your 
self  on  the  beach  in  Cape  Town,  unless  you  conclude  to 
take  my  recently  vacated  berth  as  second  mate.  And  I'd 
hate  like  the  devil  to  have  you  do  that.  There's  neither 
sense  nor  profit  for  you  in  swapping  jobs  with  me." 

"But  I  tell  you  I'm  going  to  be  skipper." 

"I  know — until  old  Cappy  Ricks  sends  down  a  relief 
captain.  If  you  promote  me  now,  the  relief  captain  may 
conclude  to  retain  me  as  first  mate  and  then  you'd  have 
to  take  my  job  or  quit  the  ship;  and  of  course  I  wouldn't 
care  to  have  that  happen.  I'd  have  to  quit  the  ship,  too. 
I  wouldn't  care  to  do  that.  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  sail 
under  the  Blue  Star  flag  for  the  rest  of  my  natural  life — 
and  I'd  hate  to  have  to  change  my  mind." 

"I've  made  up  my  mind  to  the  same  thing,  Mike,  and  I 
know  I'm  not  going  to  change  my  mind." 

"Well*  then,  Matt,  you  stick  in  your  first  mate's  berth 
and  I'll  be  satisfied  with  my  second  mate's  berth " 

"I  suppose  you'll  say  next  that  the  relief  skipper  will 
be  happy  in  poor  old  Captain  Noah's  berth,  eh?"  Matt 
interrupted.  He  grinned  at  Mr.  Murphy.  "Mike,  listen 
to  me.  There  isn't  going  to  be  any  relief  skipper.  You're 
going  back  to  Hoquiam,  Grays  Harbor,  Washington, 
U.  S.  A.,  as  chief  kicker  of  the  barkentine  Retriever, 
and  you're  going  to  take  orders  from  me  all  the  way.  In 
fact,  you  might  as  well  begin  right  now.  Take  your  duds 
and  move  into  my  cabin." 

"Matt,"  Mr.  Murphy  pleaded  earnestly,  "you  don't 
know  Cappy  Ricks,  do  you?" 


34  CAPPY    RICKS 

"No,  but  I'll  get  acquainted  with  him  in  due  coarse. 
Don't  let  that  worry  you,  Mike." 

"All  right,  I  won't.  But  what  does  worry  me  is  the 
fact  that  Cappy  Ricks  doesn't  know  you." 

"Does  he  know  you?" 

"No." 

"Do  you  know  him?" 

"Yes — by  proxy.  I've  heard  a  lot  about  him,  and  that's 
why  I'm  in  his  employ  and  resolved  to  stay  there.  If  a 
man  sails  under  the  Blue  Star  flag  long  enough  and 
behaves  himself  and  displays  a  little  human  intelligence 
from  time  to  time,  sooner  or  later  he  gets  his  chance. 
Cappy  Ricks  does  all  the  hiring  and  firing  for  the  fleet, 
and  whenever  he  has  a  good  job  to  fill,  he  never  goes 
outside  his  own  employ  to  fill  it.  lie  always  promotes  the 
deserving.  You  cabled  him,  of  course,  that  Captain 
Kendall  has  been  killed." 

"Yes,  I  did.  And  I  cabled  him  also  to  cable  me  author 
ity  to  draw  drafts,  as  skipper,  in  order  to  disburse  the 
vessel." 

"Just  like  a  kid!  Just  like  a  kid!"  Mr.  Murphy 
groaned.  "That  finishes  you,  Matt.  Cappy'll  think  you're 
fresh,  and  you'll  be  ten  years  proving  to  him  you  arc 
not." 

"It  proves  I'm  on  the  job,"  Matt  protested  doggedly. 
(  "No  matter,  Matt.  Cappy  Ricks  will  go  over  the  list 
of  his  skippers  due  for  promotion  into  a  larger  shin  and 
more  pay,  and  right  away  he'll  start  Captain  Noah's  suc 
cessor  for  Cape  Town  to  bring  the  ship  home." 

"If  he  does,  Mike,  he's  crazy." 

"Oh,  he's  crazy  enough,  Matt — crazy  like  a  fox !  He'i 
so  blamed  crazy  he  will  not  consider  handing  over  the 
Retriever  to  an  untried  and  unknown  man  who  has  been 


MATT  PEASLEY  ASSUMES  OFFICE      35 

in  his  employ  for  less  than  a  voyage.     Why,  I  wouldn't 
do  it  myself." 

"Maybe  you  think  he'll  hand  her  over  to  you?"  Matt 
suggested,  with  the  suspicion  and  impetuosity  of  youth. 

"Boy,"  said  Mr.  Murphy  patiently,  "you're  getting 
into  deep  water  close  to  the  shore.  Starboard  your  helm' 
and  put  her  on  the  other  tack.  If  he  gives  her  to  me — 
which  he  will  not — I'll  take  her.  I've  been  three  years  in 
his  employ.  I'm  capable " 

"Mike,"  Matt  interrupted.  "I  like  you  fine,  but  I  want 
to  tell  you  that  if  Cappy  Ricks  cabled  you  to  take  charge 
I  wouldn't  let  you.  I'm  next  in  command  and  it's  only 
etiquette  that  I  should  have  my  chance." 

"Then/'  Mr.  Murphy  murmured  sententiously,  "there'd 
be  a  fight  with  skin  gloves  and  I'm  afraid  you'd  get  licked, 
son.  I  wasted  a  good  many  years  in  the  navy,  Matt,  and 
there  I  learned  two  things — how  to  obey  and  how  to  fight 
• — with  my  fists.  I  was  the  champion  amateur  light-heavy 
weight  cf  the  Atlantic  fleet,  and  every  once  in  a  while 
something  happens  to  prove  to  me  that  I'm  far  from 
being  a  slouch  even  at  this  late  date." 

"No  offense,  Mike.  We're  crossing  our  bridges  before  we 
come  to  them,  and  besides,  I  didn't  intend  to  be  offensive." 

"I  understand.  Our  conversation  was  entirely  aca 
demic,"  Murphy  admitted  graciously. 

"You  said  you  learned  to  obey  in  the  navy,"  Matt  sug 
gested.  "What's  the  matter  with  obeying  my  last  order, 
Mike?" 

"All  right,  Matt.  I'll  obey.  But  remember,  I  have 
given  you  fair  warning.  If  I  move  into  your  cabin  to-day 
I'll  not  move  out  when  the  relief  skipper  comes." 

"I'll  take  a  chance,"  said  Matt  Peasley. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WORDY  WAR  AT  A  DOLLAR  A  WORD 

r 

WHILE  the  capable  Mr.  Skinner  was  preparing  the  reply 
to  Matt  Peasley's  cablegram,  and  dictating  for  Gappy 
Ricks'  signature  a  letter  to  Noah  Kendall's  widow,  Gappy 
was  busy  at  the  telephone.  First  he  retailed  the  news  to 
the  Merchants'  Exchange,  to  be  bulletined  on  the  black 
board  and  read  by  Captain  Noah's  friends ;  next  he  called 
up  the  secretary  of  the  American  Shipmasters'  Associa 
tion,  of  which  the  deceased  had  been  a  member,  and  lastly 
he  communicated  the  sad  tidings  to  the  water-front 
reporters  of  all  the  daily  papers.  This  detail  attended  to, 
Cappy's  active  mind  returned  to  more  practical  and 
profitable  affairs,  and  he  took  up  Matt  Peasley's  cable 
gram.  He  was  deep  in  a  study  of  it  when  Mr.  Skinner 
entered  with  the  letter  to  Mrs.  Kendall. 

"  'Captain  knifed,  killed,  Kru  boy  argument  boat 
fare,'  "  Cappy  read  aloud.  "Skinner,  my  dear  boy,  what 
is  the  cable  rate  per  word  to  Cape  Town?" 

"Ninety-eight  cents  per  word,**  replied  Mr.  Skinner, 
t*who  had  just  looked  it  up. 

"We  will,  if  you  please,  Skinner,  confine  ourselves  to 
round  numbers.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  being  too  exact. 
Call  it  a  dollar.  Figuring  on  that  basis,  I  see  this  garru 
lous  mate  has  squandered  five  dollars  of  our  money  to  no 
purpose — yes,  by  jingo,  more  than  that.  He  might  have 
used  the  code  book !  Hum-m-m!  Ahem!  Harump-h-h-h! 

36 


WORDY  WAR— DOLLAR  A  WORD      37 

Skinner,  this  fellow  will  not  do.  He  is  too  windy.  Skin 
ner,  he  tells  the  story  in  eight  words,  and  forgets  to  use 
his  code  book.  Give  me  a  skipper,  Skinner,  my  boy,  who 
always  has  his  owner's  interest  at  heart  and  displays  a 
commendable  discretion  in  limiting  the  depredations 
practiced  by  the  cable  company.  For  instance,  the  man 
Peasley  might  have  omitted  the  word  knifed;  also  the 
explanatory  words,  argument  boat  fare,  and  the  word 
mate.  Though  regretting  Noah's  demise  most  keenly,  as 
business  men  we  are  not  cable-gramically  interested  in  the 
means  employed  to  accomplish  his  removal.  Neither  do 
the  causes  leading  up  to  the  tragedy  interest  us.  The 
man  Peasley  should  merely  have  said  'Captain  murdered.' 
Also,  he  might  have  trusted  to  us  to  realize  that  when 
the  captain  dies  the  first  mate  takes  charge.  He  need 
not  have  identified  himself — the  infernal  chatter-box!" 

Gappy  read  the  next  sentence.  "Instruct  consignees 
honor  my  drafts  as  captain." 

"H'm!  Harum-ph!  He  might  have  said  'please,' 
Skinner !  Sounds  devilishly  like  an  order,  the  way  he  puts 
it.  Though  he  is  temporarily  in  command  I  challenge  his 
right  to  handle  our  money  until  I  know  more  about  him. 
Harum-ph !  Reading  between  the  lines,  Skinner,  I  see  he 
says :  'If  you  send  a  skipper  to  Cape  Town  to  bring  the 
Retriever  home  while  I'm  on  the  job,  you're  crazy.'  Look 
over  the  vouchers  in  Cap'n  Noah's  last  report  and  let  us 
ascertain  how  long  this  forceful  mate  has  been  in  our 
employ." 

Now,  the  ordinary  form  of  receipt  to  which  a  seaman 
puts  his  signature  when  signing  clear  bears  upon  its 
reverse  side  a  series  of  blank  spaces,  which  the  captain 
must  fill  in.  These  blanks  provide  for  mention  of  the  date 
of  signing  on,  date  of  discharge,  station  held  on  vessel  and 


38  GAPPY    RICKS 

remarks.  On  none  of  the  vouchers  of  the  Retriever's  last 
voyage,  however,  did  the  name  of  Matthew  Peasley 
appear. 

"Must  have  shipped  in  San  Francisco  just  before  the 
ressel  sailed  for  her  loading  port,"  Gappy  announced. 
''Send  in  a  boy." 

One  of  Cappy's  young  men  were  summoned. 

"Son,"  said  Cappy,  "you  run  down,  like  a  good  boy, 
to  the  office  of  the  Deputy  United  States  Shipping 
Commissioner  and  tell  him  Mr.  Ricks  would  like  to  see 
the  duplicate  copy  of  the  crew  list  of  the  barkentine 
Retriever." 

When  an  American  vessel  clears  for  a  foreign  port  the 
law  required  that  her  crew  shall  be  signed  on  before  a 
Deputy  United  States  Shipping  Commissioner,  who 
furnishes  a  certified  copy  of  the  crew  list  to  the  captain 
and  retains  a  duplicate  for  his  own  files. 

The  Blue  Star  youth  returned  presently  with  his 
duplicate  list,  on  consulting  which,  to  his  unspeakable 
amazement,  Cappy  Ricks  discovered  that  Matthew  Peasley 
had  shipped  aboard  the  Retriever  as  an  able  seaman,  and 
that  the  first  mate  was  one  William  Olson — which  goes  to 
prove  that  in  the  heat  of  passion  a  skipper  will  often 
discharge  a  mate  on  the  eve  of  sailing  for  a  foreign  port 
and  forget  to  tell  the  deputy  shipping  commissioner 
,  anything  about  it. 

"Remarkable !"  Cappy  declared.    "Ree-markable !" 

"Dirty  work  here,"  Mr.  Skinner  announced.  "Captain 
dead  and  a  common  A.B.  cabling  us  for  authority  to  dran 
drafts  as  captain,  while  posing  as  first  mate.  Nigger  in 
the  woodpile  somewhere,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"I'll  smoke  him  out  in  five  minutes,  Skinner.  Ring  up 
the  local  inspectors  and  inquire  if,  by  any  chance,  they 


WORDY  WAR— DOLLAR  A  WORD      39 

nave   ever    issued    a    captain's    license    to    one    Matthew 
Peasley." 

Skinner  obeyed.  After  a  brief  wait  he  was  informed 
that  the  said  Peasley  had  an  unlimited  license  as  first  mate 
of  sail,  and  was  entitled  to  act  as  second  mate  of  steam 
vessels  up  to  five  hundred  tons  net  register. 

"Nothing  doing !"  Gappy  piped.    "Skinner,  when  a  mate  J 
with  an  unlimited  license  ships  before  the  mast,  there's  a 
reason!" 

"Drunkard !"  Mr.  Skinner  suggested  without  an  instant's 
hesitation. 

"Eggs-actly,  Skinner.  Good  seaman,  I  daresay,  but 
worthless  and  unreliable  in  an  executive  capacity,  and  I 
can't  trust  a  ripping  fine  barkentine  like  the  Retriever 
with  that  kind  of  man.  I  suppose  he  feels  the  hankering 
for  a  spree  coming  on  right  now.  Skinner,  if  we  gave  the 
man  Peasley  permission  to  draw  drafts  he'd  paint  Cape 
Town  red.  I  feel  it  in  my  bones." 

"So  do  I,  sir." 

"What  vessels  have  we  in  port  at  this  moment,  Skinner  ?" 

"McBride  is  discharging  the  Nokomis  at  Oakland  Long 
Wharf." 

"The  ideal  man."  Gappy  smote  his  desk.  "I've  been 
wanting  to  promote  Mac  into  a  larger  vessel  and  pay  him 
twenty-five  dollars  a  month  more  for  the  past  two  years. 
He's  too  good  for  a  little  hooker  like  the  Nokomis,  ano 
he's  got  a  steady-going  Norwegian  mate  that's  been  with 
him  in  the  Nokomis  for  three  years.  Time  to  take  care 
of  that  mate.  Skinner,  I  have  an  idea.  See  that  it  is 
carried  through.  McBride's  mate  shall  buy  out  Mac's 
interest  in  the  Nokomis.  If  he  hasn't  the  money,  tell  him 
I'll  lend  it  to  him,  secured  by  the  insurance,  provided  he 
and  McBride  can  come  to  terms.  See  that  they  do.  Tell 


40  GAPPY    RICKS 

Mac  he's  to  have  the  Retriever  v^d  I'll  arrange  to  get 
Cap'n  Noah's  interest  for  him  from  the  estate  at  a  fair 
figure.  Give  him  expense  money  and  his  credentials  and 
tell  him  to  start  for  Cape  Town  tomorrow  night;  and 
cable  the  man  Peasley  to  retain  charge  of  the  vessel  at 
captain's  pay  until  McBride  arrives  to  relieve  him." 

Mr.  Skinner  retired  to  his  office  and  got  down  his  code 
book.  The  general  manager  knew  what  he  desired  to  say 
and  hoped  he  might  find  something  in  the  code  book  to 
help  him  say  it  at  cut  rates,  but  despairing  after  a  diligent 
search  he  finally  evolved  and  dispatched  this  cablegram 
to  Matt  Peasley,  addressing  it  to  the  cable  address  of 
the  Retriever. 

San  Francisco,  Feb.  16th,  19 — . 
Rickstar, 
Cape  Town. 

Peasley,  your  meagre  maritime  experience  renders 
prohibitive  compliance  request.  Retain  charge  mas 
ter's  pay  pending  arrival  successor. 

Bluestar. 

Having  dispatched  his  message  to  Matt  Peasley,  Mr. 
Skinner,  as  he  thought,  had  dismissed  Peasley  from 
his  thoughts  forever.  It  would  appear,  however,  that  in 
this  particular  the  general  manager  was  counting  Mother 
(Carey's  chickens  before  they  were  hatched.  He  little 
suspected,  in  his  desire  to  be  fair,  even  at  considerable 
expense,  to  inform  Matt  Peasley  just  why  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company  couldn't  possibly  hand  over  its  fine 
barkentine  to  a  stranger,  that  he  had  only  reopened  the 
controversy;  that  his  unfortunate  reference  to  "meager 
maritime  experience"  had  flicked  Matt  Peasley  on  a  raw 


WORDY  WAR— DOLLAR  A  WORD      41 

spot  and  been  provocative  of  this  reply,  received  the  same 
day: 

Cape  Town,  Feb.  16,  19—. 

Bluestar, 

San  Francisco. 

Skipper  dying  sea  foreign  port  unwritten  maritime 
law  stipulates  mate  succeeds.  Yankee  can  sail  any 
thing  afloat.  This  my  chance.  Grant  it  or  insure 
successor's  life.  Will  throw  him  overboard  on  arrival. 

Peasley. 

Mr.  Skinner  promptly  carried  this  defi  to  Gappy  Ricks. 

"He's  a  sea-lawyer,"  Gappy  piped  angrily.  "The 
scoundrel!  The  un-mi-ti-ga-ted — scoundrel!  Cable  him 
instantly,  Skinner,  that  if  he  spends  another  cent  of  our 
money  in  unnecessary  cablegrams  I'll  fire  him."  He 
snapped  his  fingers.  "Attend  to  it,  Skinner,  attend  to  it." 

Mr.  Skinner  attended  to  it,  and  the  following  morning 
he  found  this  reply  on  his  desk  when  he  came  down  to 
work : 

Cape  Town,  Feb.  17,  19—. 
Bluestar, 

San  Francisco. 

Holler  when  you're  hit.  Paid  for  it  myself.  Am 
I  to  bring  Retriever  home?  Peasley. 

"I  dare  say  the  fellow  did,"  Mr.  Skinner  informed 
Cappy.  "He  has  four  months'  wages  coming  to  him  at 
sixty  dollars  a  month — and  if  he  didn't,  why,  I'll  instruct 
McBride  to  deduct  the  cable  charges  from  his  wages  when 
he  pays  him  oft." 


'^2  CAPPY    RICKS 

"I  think  your  reference  to  his  meager  marilime 
experience  annoyed  him,  Skinner,"  Cappy  suggested 
thoughtfully.  "It  may  be  that  he  is  a  most  excellent 
sailor.  At  least,  he  spends  his  money  like  one." 

Cappy  had  no  further  comment  to  make,  and  the  reply 
to  this  impudent  communication  was  accordingly  left  to 
Mr.  Skinner,  who  cabled : 

San  Francisco,  Feb.  17,  19 — . 
Rickstar, 

Cape  Town. 
No! 

Bluestar. 

"I  think  that  will   settle   the  upstart,"  Mr.    Skinner 
declared  confidently  as  he  rang  for  a  messenger  boy. 
It  did  not.     Four  hours  later  he  received  this: 

Cape  Town,  Feb.  17,  19—. 
Bluestar, 

San  Francisco. 
Why? 

Peasley. 

Now  it  was  a  custom  of  Mr.  Skinner's,  when  a  subordi 
nate  laid  claim  to  an  inalienable  right  which  the  general 
manager  was  not  willing  to  concede,  to  regard  with  very 
grave  suspicion  that  subordinate's  loyalty  to  the  company. 
If  the  subordinate  protested  Mr.  Skinner  would  warn 
him,  kindly,  quietly,  but  none  the  less  forcefully;  and 
if  he  persisted  Mr.  Skinner  would  dispense  with  the 
services  of  that  subordinate  so  fast  the  offender,  nine 
times  out  of  ten,  would  be  left  standing  in  a  sort  of  fog 


WORDY  WAR— DOLLAR  A  WORD      43 

and  blinking  at  the  suddenness  with  which  the  metaphori 
cal  can  had,  metaphorically  speaking,  been  tied  to  his 
caudal  appendage.  Every  large  business  office  has  its 
Skinner — a  queer  combination  of  decency,  honesty,  brains 
and  brutality,  a  worshiper  at  the  shrine  of  Mammon  in 
the  temple  of  the  great  god  Business,  a  reactionary 
Republican,  treasurer  of  his  church  and  eventually  a  total 
loss  from  diabetes,  brought  on  by  lack  of  exercise  and 
worry  over  trifles. 

However,  to  return  to  our  particular  Mr.  Skinner  and 
Matt  Peasley,  the  rebellious.  In  all  justice  to  Skinner 
it  must  be  admitted  that  his  first  impulse  with  reference 
to  Matt  Peasley  was  eminently  fair.  He  really  desired 
to  convey  to  this  persistent  person  an  intimation  to  the 
effect  that  the  latter  was,  colloquially  speaking,  monkey 
ing  with  the  buzz-saw  and  in  imminent  danger  of  having 
his  head  lopped  off;  and  he  would  have  given  it,  too, 
provided  the  delivery  of  the  ultimatum  should  not  have 
cost  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  ninety-eight  cents 
a  word,  including  the  address.  Consequently,  Skinner, 
always  efficient  and  realizing  that  McBride  would  doubt 
less  be  enabled  to  pick  up  another  mate  in  Cape  Town, 
or  in  a  pinch,  could  dispense  with  a  first  mate  altogether, 
made  answer  to  Matt  Peasley  as  follows: 

San  Francisco,  Feb.  17,  19 — . 
Ricks  tar, 

Cape  Town. 

Peasley,  you  are  hereby  discharged.  Turn  over 
command  second  mate,  call  consignees  your  wages 
immediately. 

Bluestar. 


'44  GAPPY    RICKS 

Having  dispatched  this  cablegram  and  ended  it  all,  as 
it  were,  Mr.  Skinner  next  cast  his  cold  gray  glance  adown 
the  duplicate  crew  list  borrowed  from  the  deputy  shipping 
commissioner,  and  discovered  that  the  second  mate  shipped 
at  San  Francisco  was  one  Christian  Swenson. 

'*!  do  hope  he's  not  a  drinking  man,"  Skinner  sighed. 
"The  Retriever  is  quite  a  responsibility  to  entrust  to  a 
man  we  have  never  seen  or  heard  of  before,  but  the  man 
Swenson  can  scarcely  be  as  vicious  and  insubordinate  as 
this  fellow  Peasley,  and  under  the  circumstances  we'll 
have  to  run  the  risk." 

And  having  wotted  the  which,  Mr.  Skinner  cabled  Chris 
tian  Swenson  to  take  charge  of  the  Retriever,  at  master's 
wages,  until  the  arrival  of  his  successor.  Next  he  cabled 
The  Harlow  and  Benton  Company,  Limited,  requesting 
them  to  pay  off  Matt  Peasley  and,  if  necessary,  invoke  the 
authorities  to  remove  him  from  the  vessel. 

"That  fellow  is  a  tough  one  to  handle,"  he  remarked 
to  Cappy  Ricks,  to  whom  he  showed  all  the  cablegrams, 
"but  I  guess  this  will  about  cut  off  his  wind." 

"A  sea  lawyer  is  the  curse  of  the  Seven  Seas!"  Cappy 
declared  waspishly.  He  was  very  bitter  against  Matt 
Peasley,  whom  he  now  regarded  as  an  ally  of  the  piratical 
cable  company. 


CHAPTER   VII 

CAPPT    HICKS    MAKES    BAD    MEDICINE 

THAT  afternoon  Mr.  Skinner  herded  Captain  McBride 
of  the  Nokomis  and  his  Norwegian  mate  into  Cappy  Ricks' 
office.  Cappy  brought  them  to  terms  very  promptly,  and 
the  captain  started  for  New  York  on  the  Overland  the 
same  night.  From  New  York  he  was  to  take  passage  to 
Liverpool,  thence  via  the  A.  D.  line  to  Cape  Town.  Cappy 
almost  had  a  bloody  sweat  when  he  reflected  on  the  expense 
for  provisions  and  wages  for  the  crew  during  the  weeks 
of  idleness  while  McBride  was  on  the  way  to  join  the 
Retriever.  Both  he  and  Mr.  Skinner  had  decided  that 
nothing  could  be  gained  by  informing  McBride,  who  was 
a  little,  mild-mannered  gentleman  with  gold  eyeglasses, 
of  the  potential  ducking  that  awaited  him  at  the  hands  of 
Matt  Peasley;  for  just  before  McBride  said  good-bye 
and  started  for  the  train  Cappy  and  Mr.  Skinner  discov 
ered  that  their  applecart  again  had  been  upset.  The 
following  cablegram  received  from  Matt  Peasley  knocked 
into  a  cocked  hat  all  their  high  hopes  of  ridding  them 
selves  of  the  incubus. 

Cape  Town,  Feb.  17,  19—. 

Bluestar, 

San  Francisco. 
Swenson    fired    before    leaving    San     Francisco. 

Second   mate    Murphy    declines    take    your    orders, 

claiming  me  superior  officer;  I  decline  also,  claiming 

45 


46  CAPPY    RICKS 

captain  en  route  my  superior  officer.  Owner  can  fire 
captain  but  only  captain  can  fire  or  disrate  ship's 
officers.  Besides  I  shipped  for  the  round  trip. 

Peasley. 

"Well,"  said  Cappy,  "what  do  you  know  about  that? 
He  clings  to  us  like  a  barnacle  or  a  poor  relation — and 
the  worst  of  it  is  the  damned  sea  lawyer  is  absolutely 
right.  We  have  no  authority  to  fire  him,  Skinner.  Just 
think  of  a  government  that  will  permit  such  a  ridiculous 
state  of  affairs  as  that  to  exist !  Think  of  it,  Skinner ! 
We  hire  the  man  Peasley  but  we  can't  fire  him — and  in  the 
meantime  he'll  roost  in  Cap'n  Noah's  cabin  and  run  up 
bills  on  us  and  consume  our  groceries  and  draw  master's 
pay  until  McBride  arrives  and  discharges  him." 

For  geographical  and  financial  reasons  Cappy  Ricks 
was  barred  from  quarreling  with  Matt  Peasley.  How 
ever,  he  was  as  cross  as  a  setting  hen  and  just  naturally 
had  to  vent  his  displeasure  on  somebody,  and  as  he  paid 
Mr.  Skinner  a  very  large  salary  to  be  his  general  man 
ager,  he  figured  he  could  afford  to  quarrel  with  Skinner. 
So  he  said: 

"Well,  Skinner,  if  you  hadn't  butted  in  on  the  ship 
ping  end  of  the  business  the  man  Peasley  would  not  have 
been  given  this  opening  to  swat  us.  It's  nuts  for  a  sailor 
any  time  he  can  trip  up  a  landsman,  and  particularly 
his  owners " 

"You  O.  K.'d  the  cablegrams,  Mr.  Ricks,"  Skinner 
reminded  him  coldly. 

"Don't  talk  back  to  me !"  Cappy  piped.  "Not  another 
peep  out  of  you,  sir!  Not  another  word  of  discussion 
about  this  matter  under  any  circumstances !  I  don't  want 
to  talk  about  it  further — understand?  It's  driving  me 


CAPPY  MAKES  BAD  MEDICINE        47 

insane.  Now,  then,  Skinner,  tell  me :  If  the  man  Peasley 
should  decline  to  recognize  McBride's  authority,  what 
course  would  you  advise  pursuing?" 

"I  do  not  think  he  will  be  that  arbitrary,  Mr.  Ricks. 
In  the  first  place " 

"Skinner,  please  do  not  argue  witK  me.  The  man  Peas- 
ley  would  do  anything " 

"Well,  in  that  event,  McBride  can  call  in  the  civil 
authorities  of  Cape  Town,  to  remove  Peasley  by  force 
from  the  ship." 

"Skinner,  you'll  drive  me  to  drink!  I  ask  you,  has  a 
British  official  any  authority  over  an  American  vessel 
lying  in  the  roadstead?  Will  a  foreign  official  dare  to  set 
foot  on  an  American  deck  when  an  American  skipper 
orders  him  not  to  do  so." 

"I  am  not  a  sea  lawyer,"  Mr.  Skinner  retorted,  "I  do 
not  know." 

"The  Retriever  will  have  discharged  her  cargo  weeks 
before  McBride  arrives.  Then  suppose  Peasley  takes 
a  notion  to  warp  his  vessel  outside  the  three-mile  limit. 
.What  authority  has  McBride  got  then?" 

"I  repeat,  I  am  not  a  sea  lawyer,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"Don't  equivocate  with  me,  Skinner!  Let's  argue  this 
question  calmly,  coolly  and  deliberately.  Don't  lose  your 
temper.  Now  then  Peasley  said  he'd  throw  his  successor 
overboard,  didn't  he?" 

"Oh,  merely  a  threat,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"Skinner,  you're  a  fine,  wise  manager!  A  threat,  eh?'* 
Cappy  laughed — a  short,  scornful  laugh.  "Huh !  Threat ! 
Joke!" 

"You  do  not  think  it  is  a  threat?" 

"No,  sir.  It's  a  promise.  McBride  is  a  splendid  little 
man  and  game  to  the  core ;  but  no  good,  game  little  man 


48  CAPPY    RICKS 

will  ever  stay  on  a  deck  if  a  good,  game  big  man  takes  a 
notion  to  throw  him  overboard,  and  the  man  Peasley  is 
both  big  and  game,  otherwise  he  would  not  defy  us.  Why, 
Skinner,  that  fellow  wouldn't  pause  at  anything.  Hasn't 
he  spent  over  a  hundred  dollars  arguing  with  us  by  cable? 
Why,  he's  a  desperate  character!  Also,  he  would  not 
threaten  to  throw  his  successor  overboard  if  he  didn't 
know  that  he  was  fully  capable  of  so  doing.  Paste  that 
in  your  hat,  Skinner.  It  isn't  done."  Skinner  inclined 
his  head  respectfully.  Cappy  continued :  "What  I  should 
have  done  was  to  have  sent  a  good,  game,  big  man " 

He  paused,  and  his  glance  met  Skinner's  wonderingly  as 
a  bright  idea  leaped  into  his  cunning  brain  and  crystal 
lized  into  definite  purpose.  He  sprang  up,  waved  his 
skinny  old  arms,  and  kicked  the  waste-basket  into  a 
corner  of  the  room. 

"I  have  it,  Skinner !  I've  solved  the  problem.  Go  back 
and  'tend  to  your  lumber  business  and  leave  the  man  Peas- 
ley  to  me.  I'll  tan  that  fellow's  hide  and  hang  it  on  my 
fence,  just  as  sure  as  George  Washington  crossed  the 
Delaware  River." 

Mr.  Skinner,  glad  to  be  excused,  promptly  made  his 
escape.  When  Cappy  Ricks  stripped  for  action,  Mr. 
Skinner  knew  from  long  experience  that  there  was  going  to 
be  a  fight  or  a  foot  race;  that  whenever  the  old  gentle 
man  set  out  to  confound  an  enemy,  the  inevitable  result 
was  wailing  and  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth,  in  which 
doleful  form  of  exercise  Cappy  Ricks  had  never  been 
known  to  participate. 

"Send  in  a  boy !"  Cappy  ordered  as  the  general  mana 
ger  withdrew. 

The  boy  appeared.  "Sonny,"  said  Cappy  Ricks,  "do 
you  know  All  Hands  And  Feet?"  The  boy  nodded  and 


CAPPY  MAKES  BAD  MEDICINE        49 

Cappy  continued:  "Well,  you  go  down  on  the  Embar- 
cadero,  like  a  good  boy,  and  cruise  from  Folsom  Street 
to  Broadway  Wharf  Number  Two  until  you  find  All 
Hands  and  Feet.  Look  in  front  of  cigar  stands  and  in 
the  shipchandlery  stores;  and  if  you  don't  find  him  in 
those  places  run  over  to  the  assembly  rooms  of  HarbqE 
Fifteen,  Masters'  and  Pilots'  Association,  and  see  if  heV 
there,  playing  checkers.  When  you  find  him  tell  him  Mr, 
Ricks  wants  to  see  him  at  once." 


CHAPTER    VIII 

ALL    HANDS    AND    FEET    TO    THE    RESCUE 

CAPTAIN  Ole  Peterson  was  known  to  the  coastwise  trade 
as  All  Hands  And  Feet.  He  was  a  giant  Swede  whose  feet 
resembled  twin  scow  models  and  whose  clenched  fists,  prop 
erly  smoked  and  cured,  might  have  passed  anywhere  for 
picnic  hams.  He  was  intelligent,  competent  and  bellig 
erent,  with  a  broad  face,  slightly  dished  and  plentifully 
scarred,  while  his  wide  flat  nose  had  been  stove  in  and 
shifted  hard  a-starboard.  Cappy  Ricks  liked  him, 
respected  his  ability  and  found  him  amusing  as  one  finds  an 
educated  bear  amusing.  He  had  a  reputation  for  being 
the  undefeated  rough  and  tumble  champion  of  Sweden  and 
the  United  States. 

"You  ban  vant  to  see  me,  sir?"  he  rumbled  as,  hat  in 
hand,  he  stood  beside  Cappy  Ricks'  desk  half  an  hour 
later.  Compared  with  the  huge  Swede,  Cappy  looked  like 
a  watch  charm. 

"Sit  down,  captain,"  Cappy  replied  amiably.  "I  hear 
you're  out  of  a  job.  Why?" 

Briefly  All  Hands  And  Feet  explained  what  Cappy 
already  knew;  that  his  last  command,  being  old  and  rotten 
and  over-loaded,  had  worked  apart  in  a  seaway  and  fallen 
to  pieces  under  him.  The  inspectors  had  held  him  blame 
less. 

"I  have  a  job  for  you,  Olc,"  Cappy  announced.  "But 
there's  «.  string  attached  to  it." 


ALL  HANDS  AND  FEET  51 

"Aye  ban  able  to  pull  strings,  sir,"  Ole  reminded  him. 

Cappy  smiled,  and  outlined  to  the  Swede  the  conditions 
surrounding  the  barkentine  Retriever.  "I'm  going  to 
give  you  command  of  the  Retriever,"  he  continued  confi 
dentially.  "You  are  to  bring  her  home  from  Cape  Town, 
and  when  you  get  back  I'll  have  a  staunch  four-masted 
schooner  waiting  for  you.  I  was  going  to  send  McBride 
of  the  Nokomis  on  this  job,  but  thought  better  of  it, 
for  the  reason  that  Mac  may  not  be  physically  equipped 
to  perform  the  additional  task  I  have  in  mind  and  I 
believe  you  are.  Peterson,  if  you  want  a  steady  job 
skippering  for  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  you've 
got  to  earn  it,  and  to  earn  it  you've  got  to  give  this  fellow 
Peasley  a  good  sound  thrashing  for  the  good  of  his 
immortal  soul.  The  very  moment  you  step  aboard  the 
Retriever  let  him  know  you're  the  master." 

"Do  you  tank  he  ban  villin'  to  fight?"  Ole  demanded. 

"Something  tells  me  he  will.  However,  in  case  he  doesn't, 
don't  let  that  embarrass  you.  Man-handle  him  until  he 
does.  Let  me  impress  upon  you,  captain,  the  fact  that 
I  want  the  man  Peasley  summarily  chastised  for  impu 
dence  and  insubordination." 

"All  right,  sir,"  said  Ole.  "Aye  ban  work  him  over." 
To  be  asked  to  fight  for  a  job  was  to  this  descendant  of 
the  Vikings  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  sportsmanship.  "Aye 
never  ban  licked  yet,"  he  added  reminiscently. 

"When  we  cabled  we  were  sending  a  man  to  relieve  him,55 
Cappy  complained,  "he  replied,  telling  us  to  insure  his 
successor's  life,  because  he  was  going  to  throw  him  over 
board  the  minute  he  arrived." 

All  Hands  And  Feet  swept  away  any  lingering  fears 
Cappy  might  chance  to  be  entertaining.  "Aye  ban  weigh 
two  hundret  an*  saxty  pounds,"  he  announced. 


52  CAPPY    RICKS 

"Which  being  the  case,"  Cappy  warned  him,  "should  He 
succeed  in  throwing  you  overboard  I  should  consider  you 
unfit  for  a  job  in  my  employ."  (The  old  fox  had  not  the 
slightest  idea  such  a  contretemps  was  possible,  but  in  order 
to  play  safe  he  considered  it  gcod  policy  to  hearten  Ole 
for  the  fray.)  "Should  he  defeat  you,  captain,  I  have  no 
hesitancy  in  saying  to  you  now  that  such  a  misfortune 
would  have  a  most  disastrous  effect  on  your  future  in  my 
employ.  You  know  me.  When  I  order  a  job  done,  I  want 
it  done,  and  I  want  it  done  well.  Understand!  I  don't 
want  you  to  maim  or  kill  the  man,  but  just  give  him  a 
good  sound — er — commercial  thrashing;  and  after  you've 
tamed  him  I  want  you  to " 

All  Hands  And  Feet  nodded  his  comprehension. 

"An',"  he  interrupted,  "after  aye  ban  slap  him  once  or 
twice  aye  ban  give  good  kick  under  de  coattail  an'  fire  dis 
fresh  guy — eh?"  he  suggested. 

"Fire  nothing!"  shrilled  Cappy.  "You  follow  instruc 
tions,  Ole,  or  I'll  fire  you !  No,  sir.  After  you've  thrashed 
him  I  want  you  to  bend  a  rope  round  him  amidships  and 
souse  him  overside  to  bring  him  to !  Remember,  we  fired 
him  once  and  he  would  not  be  fired.  The  damned  sea  law 
yer  quoted  the  salt-water  code  to  us  and  said  he'd  shipped 
for  the  round  trip ;  so  we'll  take  him  at  his  word.  He's 
your  first  mate,  captain.  Bring  him  back  to  Grays  Har 
bor  with  you ;  and  then,  if  you  feel  so  inclined,  you  may 
apply  the  tip  of  your  number  twenty-four  sea  boot  where 
it  will  do  the  most  good ;  in  fact,  I  should  prefer  it.  But 
by  all  means  see  to  it  that  he  completes  his  contract  with 
the  barkentine  Retriever." 

"Aye  skoll  see  to  it,"  Ole  promised  fervently. 

"I  thank  you,  captain.  Come  out  in  the  general  office 
now  and  TH  introduce  you  to  the  cashier,  who  will  furnish 


ALL  HANDS  AND  FEET  53 

you  with  expense  money.  Meantime,  I'll  have  Skinner  fill 
out  a  certificate  of  change  of  masters  and  have  it  regis 
tered  at  the  custom-house.  Can't  send  you  down  there 
without  your  credentials,  you  know." 

All  Hands  And  Feet  mumbled  his  thanks;  for,  indeed, 
he  was  grateful  for  this  chance  to  prove  his  metal.  Calm 
in  the  knowledge  of  his  past  performances,  he  took  no 
thought  of  the  personal  issue  with  Matt  Peasley,  for 
never  had  he  met  a  mate  he  could  not  thrash.  He  followed 
Cappy  out  to  the  cashier's  desk;  and  while  the  latter 
equipped  All  Hands  And  Feet  for  his  journey  to  South 
Africa,  and  Mr.  Skinner  departed  for  the  custom-house 
to  have  the  certificate  registered,  Cappy  wired  McBride, 
aboard  the  Overland  speeding  east,  instructing  him  to 
come  back  to  San  Francisco. 

When  Skinner  returned  to  the  office  he  found  Cappy 
clawing  nervously  at  his  whiskers. 

"The  man  Peasley  has  completely  disrupted  our  organi 
zation,"  he  complained  bitterly.  "Here  I  go  to  work  and 
promote  McBride  to  the  Retriever  to  make  room  for  his 
mate  in  the  Nokomis,  and  now  I  have  to  recall  Mac  and 
give  the  Retriever  to  All  Hands  And  Feet  until  she  gets 
back  to  Grays  Harbor;  in  consequence  of  which  Mac 
hasn't  a  thing  to  do  for  four  months  and  draws  full  pay 
for  doing  it,  and  later  I've  got  to  provide  a  permanent 
place  for  All  Hands  And  Feet!  Skinner,  if  this  contin 
ues,  I  shall  yet  fill  a  pauper's  grave."  He  was  silent  for 
several  seconds ;  then :  "By  the  way,  Skinner,  have  you 
replied  to  that  last  cablegram  from  the  man  Peasley?" 

"No,  sir.     I  didn't  think  it  required  an  answer." 

"You  mean  you  didn't  know  what  answer  to  give  him," 
Cappy  snarled.  "Well,  neither  do  I;  but  since  the  cuss 
has  got  us  into  the  spending  habit,  I'm  going  to  be  reck- 


54  CAPPY    RICKS 

less  for  once  and  send  him  a  cable  myself,  just  to  let  him 
know  I'm  calling  his  bluff." 

And,  with  that  remark,  Cappy  squared  round  to  his  desk 
and  wrote,  in  a  trembling  hand:  "Special  messenger  big 
as  horse  carries  reply  your  last  cablegram." 

"There,"  he  said,  turning  to  his  general  manager; 
"send  that  to  the  man  Peasley,  and  sign  my  name  to  it." 


CHAPTER    IX 

MR.    MUBPHY    ADVISES    PREPAREDNESS 

MATT  PEASLEY  said  nothing  to  Mr.  Murphy  when 
Cappy  Ricks'  cryptic  cablegram  was  received.  Insofar  as 
Matt  was  concerned,  that  cablegram  closed  the  argument^ 
for  even  had  it  seemed  to  demand  a  reply  the  master  of 
the  Retriever  would  not — nay  could  not,  have  answered, 
for  the  controversy  had  already  ruined  him  financially. 
So  he  went  on  briskly  with  his  task  of  discharging  the 
Retriever  and  when  the  A.  D.  liner  pulled  out  for 
Liverpool  with  Captain  Noah's  body  on  board,  he  laid  off 
work  merely  long  enough  to  dip  the  ensign  and  run  it  to 
half  mast  again  until  the  steamer  was  out  of  sight;  then 
he  furled  the  flag,  stored  it  in  the  locker  in  Captain  Noah's 
stateroom,  into  which  he  had  now  moved,  and  went  on 
superintending  the  discharging.  When  the  vessel  was 
empty  he  had  a  tug  tow  him  out  into  the  roadstead,  where 
he  cast  anchor  and  set  himself  patiently  to  await  the 
arrival  of  the  special  messenger  "as  big  as  a  horse." 

Somehow  Matt  didn't  relish  that  little  dash  of  descrip 
tive  writing.  In  conjunction  with  the  noun  horse  Cappy 
Ricks  had  employed  the  indefinite  article  a,  and  while  a 
horse  was  a  horse  and  Cappy  might  have  had  a  Shetland 
pony  in  mind  when  he  coined  the  simile,  nevertheless,  a 
still  small  voice  whispered  to  Matt  Peasley  that  at  the 
time  Cappy  was  really  thinking  of  a  Percheron.  The 
longer  Matt  chewed  the  cud  of  anticipation  the  more 

55 


56  GAPPY    RICKS 

acute  grew  his  regret  that  he  had  threatened  to  throw  his 
successor  overboard.  He  traced  a  certain  analogy  between 
that  threat  and  Gappy  Ricks'  simple  declarative  sentence, 
and  finally  he  decided  to  take  Mr.  Murphy  into  his 
confidence. 

"Mike,"  he  said,  "did  you  ever  hear  any  gossip  to  the 
effect  that  Cappy  Ricks  will  swallow  a  bluff?" 

"No,  I  never  have,"  Mr.  Murphy  replied.  "Why  do  you 
ask?  You  been  trying  to  bluff  him,  Matt?" 

"No,  I  really  meant  it  when  I  said  it,  and  if  I'm  crowded 
I'll  make  good,  but  somehow  I  wish  I  hadn't  said  it.  It 
wasn't  dignified." 

"What  did  you  say,  Matt?" 

"I  cabled  the  owners  that  if  they  sent  a  skipper  down 
here  to  relieve  me  they  had  better  insure  his  life,  because 
I'd  throw  him  overboard  upon  arrival." 

"Why,  that's  war  talk,"  Mr.  Murphy  declared,  highly 
scandalized.  "I  don't  think  Cappy  Ricks  will  stand  for 
that.  I  know  blame  well  I  wouldn't." 

"What  would  you  do,  Mike,  if  you  stood  in  Cappy's 
shoes  and  I  sent  you  that  cablegram?" 

"Well,"  Mr.  Murphy  mused,  "of  course  I'd  be  a  little 
old  man  weighing  about  a  hundred  and  thirty  pounds 
ring-side,  and  I  wouldn't  be  able  to  thrash  you  myself, 
but  if  it  took  my  last  dollar  I'd  send  somebody  down  here 
to  do  the  job  for  me." 

"Well,  I  guess  that's  just  about  what  Cappy  has  done,* 
Matt  admitted,  and  handed  his  mate  Cappy's  cablegram. 

"Hah-hah!"  Mr.  Murphy  commented.  "That  threat 
got  past  the  general  manager,  right  up  to  headquarters. 
WTiy,  the  old  man  signed  this  cablegram  and  they  do  say 
that  when  Cappy  takes  personal  charge  the  fur  begins  to 
fly.  Matt,  if  I  was  a  drinking  man  I'd  offer  to  bet  you  a 


MURPHY  ADVISES  PREPAREDNESS      57 

scuttle  of  grog  it's  a  case  of  die  dog,  or  eat  the  meat- 
axe.  Your  bluff  has  been  called,  my  son." 

"Then,"  Matt  averred  impudently,  "the  only  thing  for 
me  to  do  is  to  call  Cappy's." 

"How?" 

"Why,  give  his  messenger  a  good  trouncing,  of  course. 
You  don't  suppose  I'm  going  to  stand  by  and  take  a 
thrashing  or  let  the  other  fellow  heave  me  overboard,  do 
you  ?  I  should  say  not !" 

Mr.  Murphy  puffed  at  his  pipe  in  silence  for  several 
minutes,  the  while  he  pondered  the  situation.  Presently 
he  arrived  at  a  solution. 

"He  wouldn't  send  a  prize-fighter  down  here,  just  to 
lick  you,"  he  announced.  "The  old  man  is  the  wildest 
spendthrift  on  earth  when  you  get  him  started,  but  as  a 
general  rule  his  middle  name  is  Tight  Wad.  He  would 
select  a  combination  of  scrapper  and  skipper,  and  there 
are  any  number  of  such  combinations  on  the  beach  of 
'Frisco  town.  I  could  name  you  a  dozen  off-hand,  and 
any  one  of  the  dozen  would  make  you  mind  your  P's  and 
Q's,  big  as  you  are.  Still,  they  all  fight  alike — rough 
and  tumble,  catch-as-catch-can.  They  come  wading  in, 
swinging  both  arms  and  you  could  sail  the  Retriever 
through  the  openings  they  leave.  Know  anything  about 
boxing,  Matt?" 

"Not  a  thing,  Mike.  I've  always  had  to  climb  the  big 
fellows." 

"Then  I'll  teach  you,"  Mr.  Murphy  announced  with  con 
viction.  "You're  in  fine  shape  now — as  right  as  a  fox  and 
fit  to  tackle  the  finest,  but  there  isn't  an}'  sense  in  getting 
mauled  up  when  you  don't  have  to.  I'll  go  ashore  and 
buy  a  set  of  six-ounce  gloves,  a  set  of  two-ounce  gloves 
and  a  punching  bag.  For  the  next  three  weeks  you  won't 


58  CAPPY    RICKS 

have  anything  to  do  except  prepare  for  the  battle,  and  I 
can  teach  you  a  lot  of  good  stuff  in  three  weeks.  To  be 
fore-warned  is  to  be  fore-armed,  Matt,  and  if  Gappy  has 
sent  a  Holy  Terror  to  clean  you,  give  him  a  regular  fight, 
even  if  he  licks  you." 

Matt    Peasley    nodded.      He    entertained    a    profound 
respect  for  Mr.  Murphy's  judgment. 


CHAPTER    X 

THE    BATTLE    OF    TABLE    BAT 

IN  due  course  Captain  Ole  Peterson  arrived  at  Cape 
Town.  As  the  steamer  which  bore  him  slipped  up  Table 
Bay  to  her  pier  All  Hands  And  Feet  saw  a  big  barken- 
tine,  flying  the  American  flag,  at  anchor  just  inside  the 
breakwater  and  rightly  conjectured  she  was  his  future 
command.  Three  hours  ashore  proved  ample  time  to 
consummate  all  of  the  Retriever's  neglected  business.  He 
discovered  that  the  man  to  whom  he  was  to  administer  a 
good,  sound,  commercial  thrashing,  as  per  Cappy  Ricks' 
instructions,  had  already  purchased  and  gotten  aboard 
stores  and  water  for  the  voyage  back  to  Grays  Harbor,  so 
All  Hands  And  Feet  drew  some  money  from  the  consignees, 
to  be  deducted  from  the  freight  money,  paid  off  all  the 
vessel's  bills,  O.  K.'d  the  consignees'  statement  of  account 
to  be  forwarded  to  the  owners,  received  a  ninety-day  draft 
on  London,  in  payment  of  the  freight,  mailed  it  to  his 
owners,  cleared  his  vessel,  procured  a  reliable  man  to 
witness  the  formal  transfer  of  authority  from  Matt 
Peasley  to  himself,  engaged  a  launch  and  set  out  for  the 
Retriever.  All  Hands  And  Feet  had  had  ample  time  to 
plan  his  campaign,  and  he  had  planned  it  well.  Immedi 
ately  upon  setting  foot  on  the  deck  of  the  Retriever  he 
planned  to  attack ;  then,  this  duty  accomplished,  he  would 
send  his  witness  ashore,  up  hook  and  away.  The  attack 
having  taken  place  in  British  waters  All  Hands  And  Feet 

59 


6o  CAPPY    RICKS 

hoped  Matt  Pcasley  would  have  no  redress  in  American 
waters ;  and  if  he  took  the  complainant  to  sea  with  him 
the  man  Peasley  would,  of  a  certainty,  have  no  legal 
redress  in  British  waters ! 

Mr.  Murphy  was  the  first  to  sight  All  Hands  And  Feet. 
The  worthy  fellow  had  observed  the  arrival  of  the  steamer 
and  it  had  occurred  to  him  that  possibly  Cappy  Ricks' 
messenger  might  be  aboard  her.  He  had  been  on  the 
lookout  for  two  hours,  accordingly,  and  the  instant  he 
saw  a  launch  coming  toward  the  Retriever  his  suspicions 
were  fully  aroused.  He  ran  below  and  returned  with  the 
two  ounce  gloves  and  Captain  Kendall's  powerful  marine 
glasses,  which  latter  he  leveled  at  the  approaching  launch, 
and  while  the  new  skipper  was  still  a  couple  of  cable 
lengths  distant,  Mr.  Murphy  recognized  him.  Instantly 
he  secured  the  two  ounce  gloves  and  ran  aft  to  where  Matt 
Peasle}*,  dressed  in  slippers,  duck  trousers  and  undershirt, 
sat  under  an  awning  reading  Sinful  Peck. 

"Matt,"  he  declared,  "the  special  messenger  will  be 
aboard  in  about  three  shakes  of  a  lamb's  tail.  I  recognize 
him." 

"Who  is  he?"  Matt  demanded  coolly. 

"All  Hands  And  Feet — and  believe  me,  he's  there !  He 
isn't  a  man,  Matt,  he's  a  bear — he's  a  devil,  and  if  he 
ever  gets  his  hands  on  you  it's  Kitty  bar  the  door!  Get 
into  the  gloves,  boy,  get  into  the  gloves.  You  could  smash 
that  big  Swede  to  }*our  heart's  content,  but  you  wouldn't 
even  stagger  him  with  the  first  few  punches.  You'd  just 
break  your  hands  on  him  before  you  could  knock  him  out 
and  then  he'd  walk  over  you.  Into  the  gloves,  Matt,  and 
save  your  knuckles." 

"All  right,  Mike.  Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry.  Call  a 
couple  of  hands  and  let  down  the  companion  ladder  so 


THE  BATTLE  OF  TABLE  BAY          61 

the  special  messenger  can  bring  his  dunnage  aboard.  Ill 
fight  him  after  I've  finished  this  chapter — that  is,  if  he 
insists  on  being  accommodated." 

"He'll  insist,"  Mr.  Murphy  declared.  "He  likes  it,  and 
the  reason  he  likes  it  is  because  he  does  it  well,  and  that's 
the  reason  he's  here.  He  won't  waste  any  ceremony  on 
you,  Matt.  He's  always  up  and  doing." 

Matt  finished  his  chapter  of  Sinful  Peck  just  as  All 
Hands  And  Feet,  followed  by  a  Cape  Town  gentleman  and 
two  Km  boys,  bearing  respectively  a  brown  canvas 
telescope  basket  and  a  sea  chest,  bore  down  upon  him, 
convoyed  by  Mr.  Murphy. 

"A  big  Swede  skipper,"  Matt  Peasley  soliloquized,  as 
he  eyed  the  stranger  with  alert  interest.  "Thunder,  but 
he's  big.  He's  the  biggest  thing  I  ever  saw  walking  on 
two  legs,  with  the  exception  of  a  trick  elephant."  He  rose, 
put  down  his  book  and  advanced  to  greet  his  visitors. 
While  All  Hands  And  Feet  was  still  fully  thirty  feet  from 
him  he  bawled  aloud : 

"You  ban  Mr.  Peasley?" 

"Captain  Peasley,"  young  Matt  corrected  him.  "Since 
the  death  of  Captain  Kendall  I  have  been  in  charge  of  the 
vessel;  hence,  for  the  present,  I  am  known  as  Captain 
Peasley.  What  can  I  do  for  you,  gentlemen?" 

All  Hands  And  Feet  glanced  appraisingly  at  Matt 
Peasley  and  did  him  the  honor  to  remove  his  coat  and 
rest. 

"Yes;  it's  pretty  hot  down  in  these  latitudes,"  Matt 
remarked,  by  way  of  being  pleasant  and  making 
conversation. 

All  Hands  And  Feet  removed  an  envelope  from  his  coat 
pocket  and  handed  it  to  Matt ;  and  while  the  latter  perused 
it  the  big  Swede  strode  to  the  scuttle  butt  and  helped 


62  CAPPY    RICKS 

himself  to  a  drink  of  water.     Matt  opened  the  envelope 
and  read  this  communication  from  Cappy  Ricks: 

San  Francisco,  California. 

February  20,  19 — . 
Mr.  Matthew  Peasley, 

Chief  Mate  Barkentine  Retriever, 

Cape  Town,  South  Africa. 
My  Dear  Mr.  Peasley : 

Cast  your  eye  along  the  lines  of  the  bearer  of  this 
note,  Captain  Ole  Peterson,  who  comes  to  Cape  Town 
to  take  command  of  the  Retriever.  Within  five 
minutes  he  will,  acting  under  instructions  from  me 
and  without  the  slightest  personal  animus  toward 
yourself,  proceed  to  administer  to  you  the  beating  of 
a  lifetime.  By  the  time  he  gets  through  wiping  the 
deck  with  you  perhaps  you  will  realize  the  necessity, 
in  the  future,  of  obeying  orders  from  your  owners. 

In  your  cablegram  received  to-day,  you  take 
occasion  to  remind  us  that  no  manager  or  owner  has 
authority  to  disrate  a  ship's  officer.  This  is  quite 
true.  Such  authority  is  vested  only  in  the  master  of 
the  ship.  You  need  have  no  fear  for  your  job,  how 
ever,  We  believe  you  to  be  a  clever  first  mate, 
otherwise  Captain  Kendall  would  not  have  dug  you 
up  out  of  the  forecastle ;  and  believing  this,  naturally 
we  dislike  the  thought  of  disrating  you.  We  have, 
therefore,  instructed  Captain  Peterson  to  retain  you 
in  your  berth  as  first  mate. 

However,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  we  have  informed 
him  of  your  amiable  intentions  of  throwing  him  over 
board,  he  will  first  inculcate  in  you  that  spirit  of 
respect  to  your  superiors  which  you  so  manifestly 


THE  BATTLE  OF  TABLE  BAY          63 

lack.  He  will  then  dip  you  into  the  drink,  to  bring 
you  to,  and  after  that  you  will  kindly  go  forward  and 
break  out  the  anchor.  You  signed  for  the  round 
trip  and  you're  going  to  complete  your  contract. 
Remember  that. 

Cordially  and  sincerely  yours, 
Blue  Star  Navigation  Company, 

By  Alden  P.  Ricks, 

President. 

Matt  Peasley  read  this  extraordinary  communication 
twice,  then  folded  it  and  calmly  placed  it  in  his  pocket. 

"May  I  inquire,  sir,"  he  said,  facing  the  gentleman  who 
had  accompanied  All  Hands  And  Feet  aboard  the 
Retriever,  "who  you  are  and  the  nature  of  your  business  ?" 

"I  am  the  American  consul,  Mr.  Peasley,  and  I  am  here 
at  the  invitation  of  Captain  Peterson,  the  master  of  this 
ship,  to  witness  the  formal  transfer  of  authority  from  you 
to  him.  I  wa»  given  to  understand  by  Captain  Peterson 
that  you  might  offer  some  slight  objection  to  this  arrange 
ment." 

"Slight  objection!"  Matt  Peasley  replied  with  a  rising 
inflection,  and  grinned  maliciously. 

The  consul  had  his  Yankee  sense  of  humor  with  him  and 
chuckled  as  Matt  lifted  his  big  body  on  his  toes  and 
stretched  both  arms  lazily.  Then  Matthew  Peasley  turned 
toward  All  Hands  And  Feet. 

"I  have  a  letter  from  the  owners  of  the  Retriever,"  he 
said  respectfully,  "which  leads  me  to  presume  that  you  are 
to  supersede  me  in  command  of  the  vessel."  All  Hands 
And  Feet  nodded.  "Which  being  the  case,"  Matt  Peas- 
ley  continued,  "as  a  mere  matter  of  formality,  you  will 
of  course  present  your  credentials  as  master." 


64  GAPPY    RICKS 

"Sure !"  Ole  replied  pleasantly,  and  sidled  toward  Matt 
Peasley  with  outstretched  arms.  Could  Cappy  Ricks  have 
seen  his  skipper  then,  he  would  have  reminded  the  Old 
Man  more  than  ever  of  a  bear. 

Matt  Peasley  needed  no  blueprint  of  the  big  Swede's 
plans.  All  Hands  And  Feet,  depending  on  his  sheer  horse 
power  and  superior  weight,  always  fought  in  mass 
formation,  as  it  were.  His  modus  operandi  was  to  embrace 
his  enemy  in  those  terrible  arms,  squeeze  the  breath  out 
of  him  with  one  bearlike  hug,  then  lay  him  on  the  deck, 
straddle  him,  and  pummel  him  into  insensibility  at  his 
leisure.  Matt  gave  ground  rapidly  and  held  up  a  warn 
ing  hand. 

"One  moment,  my  friend,"  he  requested.  "Before  you 
get  familiar  on  brief  acquaintance,  don't  you  think  you 
had  better  present  your  credentials?" 

All  Hands  And  Feet  shook  his  two  great  fists  and 
grinned  good-naturedly. 

"How  dese  ban  suit  you  for  credentials?"  he  queried. 

"Fine,"  Matt  Peasley  answered ;  "only,  before  you 
present  them,  our  first  duty  is  to  the  ship.  I  take  it  that 
you  have  cleared  the  vessel  and  that  after  trimming  me 
you  intend  to  put  to  sea." 

"You  ban  guess  it,"  the  Swede  rumbled.  "Put  up  de 
dooks.  Anyhow,  I  ban't  have  to  fight  little  feller.  Dat 
ban  one  comfort." 

"You  cleared  the  ship,  eh?  Well,  Swede,  I'm  glad  to 
hear  that.  I  should  have  cleared  her  myself  and  sailed 
long  ago  if  I  had  only  had  a  skipper's  ticket;  but  these 
British  custom-house  officials  are  great  sticklers  for  red 
tape  and  they  wouldn't  clear  me.  And,  of  course,  a  man 
can't  sail  without  his  papers.  When  he  does  they  send  a 
gunboat  after  him.  However,"  he  added  brightly,  "the 


"HOW  DESK  BAN   SUIT  YOU    FOR  CREDENTIALS?' 


THE  BATTLE  OF  TABLE  BAY          65 

snip  is  cleared  and  the  skipper — so  I  am  unofficially 
informed — is  aboard.  By  the  way,  Swede,  I  left  a  lot  of 
O.  K.'d  bills  for  stores  and  provisions  up  at  the  office  of 
the  Harlow  &  Benton  Company,  Limited.  Did  you  square 
up  for  them?" 

"Yah ;  everything  ban  shipshape,"  All  Hands  And  Feet 
assured  him. 

"And  you  insist  on  presenting  your  credentials  in 
bunches  of  fives,  eh?" 

All  Hands  And  Feet  nodded  and  once  more  commenced 
sidling  toward  Matt  Peasley,  who  backed  away  again, 
meantime  addressing  himself  to  the  United  States  consul: 

"You  heard  what  he  said,  Mr.  Consul.  He  may  be  my 
superior  officer,  but  I  have  not  been  informed  of  that  fact 
officially ;  and  meantime,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  he  is 
merely  a  fine,  big  squarehead  who  has  climbed  aboard  my 
ship  uninvited  and  attacked  me.  Did  you  ever  see  a  sea 
bully  licked,  Mr.  Consul?" 

"I  have  never  had  that  pleasure,  Mr.  Peasley." 

All  the  time  Matt  Peasley  was  circling  around  the 
deck,  with  All  Hands  And  Feet  sidling  after  him. 

"Then  you've  got  something  coming,  sir,"  Matt  replied. 
"Help  yourself  to  a  reserved  seat  on  the  rail  and  watch 
the  joyous  procedure.  Mr.  Murphy!" 

"Here,  sir,"  Mr.  Murphy  replied  promptly. 

"I'm  going  to  thrash  the  big  fellow,  Mr.  Murphy. 
Stand  by  to  see  fair  play  and  keep  the  crew  off  him.  I 
observe  you  have  equipped  yourself  with  a  belaying-pin. 
Tkank  you,  Mr.  Murphy.  You  anticipate  the  situation." 

He  turned  to  All  Hands  And  Feet,  who  was  still 
crowding  him  as  they  circled  the  deck.  "Stop  where  you 
are,  my  friend ;  otherwise,  Mr,  Murphy  will  crack  you  on 
[the  head  with  the  belaying-pin." 


66  CAPPY    RICKS 

All  Hands  And  Feet  grinned  patronizingly  and  paused. 

"Veil?"  he  queried. 

"On  my  ship,"  Matt  continued,  "all  fights  are  pulled 
off  under  my  rules.  Kicking,  choking,  biting,  gouging 
and  deadly  weapons  are  prohibited.  If  you  get  me  down 
you  can  use  your  fists  on  me,  but  anything  else  will 
necessitate  the  interference  of  the  referee  with  his  trusty 
belaying-pin." 

"Veil?"  All  Hands  And  Feet  queried  again.  He  was 
very  eager  for  the  fray. 

"We  have  procured  a  set  of  two-ounce  gloves  in  antici 
pation  of  this  physical  culture  exhibition,"  Matt  replied. 
"Unfortunately,  however,  I  fear  your  hands  will  not  fit 
them.  Would  you  care  to  try  them  on?" 

"Cut  it  oud !  Cut  it  oud !"  the  enemy  rumbled  contempt 
uously,  and  again  commenced  his  advance. 

"One  minute,  then,  my  friend,  until  I  put  on — 

"Fight  mit  your  bare  hands  like  a  man !"  the  big  Swede 
bellowed  scathingly. 

"You  forget.  I  told  you  all  fights  on  my  ship  are 
pulled  off  under  my  rules.  I  always  fight  with  two-ounce 
gloves." 

"All  righd.  Suit  yourself."  All  Hands  And  Feet  felt 
he  could  afford  to  give  the  enemy  a  trifle  the  better  of 
the  argument  without  the  slightest  prejudice  to  his  own 
chances  for  success. 

Accordingly,  Mr.  Murphy  skillfully  bandaged  Matt 
Peasley's  hands,  drew  on  the  gloves  and  gently  shoved 
his  young  champion  toward  the  center  of  the  deck.  "Let 
'er  go  !"  he  announced. 

"Come  Swede !  Present  your  credentials !"  Matt 
taunted.  His  long  left  flashed  out  and  cuffed  All  Hands 
And  Feet  on  the  nose. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  TABLE  BAY          67 

It  was  a  mere  love-tap !  All  Hands  And  Feet  grinned 
pityingly,  and  with  his  left  arm  guarding  his  face, 
rushed. 

"Lower  deck!"  Mr.  Murphy  warned,  and  laughed  as 
Matt  planted  left  and  right  in  the  midriff  and  danced 
away  from  the  Swede's  swinging  right.  All  Hands  And 
Feet  grunted — a  most  unwarriorlike  grunt — and  dropped 
both  hands — whereupon  a  fog  suddenly  descended  upon 
his  vision.  Faintly  he  made  out  a  blur  that  was  Matt 
Peasley;  bellowing  wrathfully  he  rushed.  Matt  gave 
ground  and  the  Swede's  vision  cleared  and  he  paused  to 
consider  the  situation. 

"No  rest  for  the  wicked,"  Mr.  Murphy  declared.  "At 
him,  boy,  at  him!" 

All  Hands  And  Feet  realized  he  faced  a  desperate  situ 
ation,  and  as  Matt  stepped  in  he  ducked  and  leaped  upon 
his  antagonist. 

"By  yiminy,"  he  yelled.  "I  got  you  now!"  and  his 
great  hands  closed  around  Matt  Peasley's  neck. 

"Lower  deck !"  Mr.  Murphy  37elled  shrilly,  and  a  volley 
of  short  arm  blows  commenced  to  rattle  on  the  big  Swede's 
stomach.  For  at  least  seven  seconds  Matt  worked  like 
a  pneumatic  riveter ;  then 

"Swing  your  partner  for  the  grand  right  and  left,'* 
Mr.  Murphy  counseled,  and  Matt  closed  with  All  Hands 
And  Feet,  and  managed  to  shake  the  badly  winded  cham 
pion  off. 

"All  off!"  Mr.  Murphy  declared  to  the  American  consul 
and  dropped  his  marline-spike,  as  Matt  Peasley  ripped 
left  and  right,  right  and  left  into  Ole  Peterson's  dish  face. 
"Watch  the  skipper — our  skipper,  I  mean.  Regular  young 
human  pile-driver."  He  raised  his  voice  and  called  to  Matt 
Peasley.  "He's  rocking  on  his  legs  now,  sir;  but  keep 


68  CAPPY    RICKS 

awajr  from  those  arms.  He's  dangerous  and  you're  givin* 
him  fifty  pounds  the  best  of  it  in  the  weights.  Try  the 
short  ribs  with  your  left  and  feel  for  his  chin  with  the 
right,  sir.  Very  nicely  done,  sir !  Now — once  more !" 

Mr.  Murphy  nodded  politely  to  the  American  consul. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  said.  "The  bigger  they  are  the  harder 
they  fall,  and  the  Retriever's  deck  ain't  no  nice  place  to 
bump  a  man's  head.  I'll  just  skip  round  in  back  and  catch 
him  in  my  arms." 

Which  being  done,  Mr.  Murphy  laid  All  Hands  And 
Feet  gently  on  deck,  walked  to  the  scuttle  butt,  procured 
a  dipperful  of  water  and  threw  it  into  the  gory,  battered 
face.  Matt  Peasley  had  simply  walked  round  him  and, 
with  the  advantage  of  a  superior  reach,  had  systematic 
ally  cut  Captain  Ole  Peterson  to  strings  and  ribbons. 

He  held  up  the  blood-soaked  gloves  for  Mr.  Murphy 
to  untie  the  strings,  the  while  he  sniffed  a  little  afternoon 
breeze  that  had  just  sprung  up,  blowing  straight  for  the 
open  sea. 

"When  he  comes  to,  Mr.  Murphy,"  he  ordered  calmly, 
"escort  him  to  your  old  room.  Have  one  of  the  men  stow 
his  dunnage  there  also ;  and  tell  him  if  he  shows  his  nose 
on  deck  until  I  give  him  permission,  he  shall  have  another 
taste  of  the  same.  Mr.  Consul,  I  should  be  highly 
honored  if  you  would  step  into  my  cabin  and  hoist  one  to 
our  own  dear  native  land." 

"With  pleasure,"  the  consul  replied.  "Though  I  cannot, 
in  my  capacity  as  a  citizen  of  the  United  States,  indorse 
jour — er — mutiny,  nevertheless,  as  a  United  States  consul 
at  Cape  Town  I  shall  take  pleasure  in  certifying  to  the 
fact  that  the  fallen  gladiator  was  the  aggressor,  that  he 
did  not  present  his  credentials,  and  that  you  had  no 
official  knowledge  of  his  identity." 


THE  BATTLE  OF  TABLE  BAY          69 

"I  wish  3'ou  would  make  an  affidavit  to  that  effect,  under 
the  seal  of  the  Consulate,  and  mail  it  to  me  at  Hoquiam, 
Washington,  U.  S.  A.,"  Matt  pleaded,  as  they  reached  his 
cabin.  He  reached  into  poor  old  Cap'n  Noah's  little 
private  locker.  "I've  a  suspicion,  sir,  I'm  going  to  need 
your  affidavit  very  badly." 

''I  shall  do  so,  Mr.  Peasley.  May  I  inquire  what  you 
purpose  doing  with  Captain  Peterson?" 

"Captain  Peasley — if  you  please,  Mr.  Consul."  Matt 
looked  up  and  grinned.  "I  think,"  he  continued,  as  he 
inserted  the  corkscrew,  "I  shall  ship  that  boy  as  second 
mate  if  he's  willing  to  work.  If  he's  sullen,  of  course  he'll 
have  to  remain  in  his  room — and  I  shall  not  permit  him 
to  present  his  credentials  now." 

"Captain  Peasley,"  the  consul  warned  seriously.  "I'm 
afraid  you're  in  very,  very  Dutch." 

"I  wouldn't  be  surprised.  However,  it  will  be  about 
three  months  before  I  commence  to  suffer,  and  in  the  mean 
time  I'm  going  to  be  supremely  happy  skippering  the 
barkentine  Retriever  back  to  Grays  Harbor,  if  they  hang 
me  for  it  when  I  get  there.  Say  when!" 

"When !" 

"Here's  success  to  crime,  Mr.  Consul." 

"Good  luck  to  you,  you  youthful  prodigy;  good  luck 
and  bon  voyage,  Mr. — I  mean  Captain  Peasley." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Consul.  I  hate  to  hurry  you  away ; 
fact  is,  I'd  like  to  have  you  stay  aboard  and  have  dinner: 
with  us,  but  if  this  breeze  holds  good  I  can  save  my  owners 
an  outward  towage  bill,  and  I'll  have  to  hustle.  So  I'll 
bid  you  good-bye,  Mr.  Consul.  Glad  to  have  had  you 
for  the  little  exhibition.  Here  is  my  name  and  address — 
and  please  don't  forget  that  affidavit." 

When  the  American  consul  left  the  ship  Matt  Peasley 


70  GAPPY   RICKS 

was  on  the  poop  bawling  orders ;  up  on  the  topgallant 
forecastle  the  capable  Mr.  Murphy  and  his  bully  boys  were 
walking  around  the  windlass  to  the  bellowing  chorus  of 
Roll  A  Man  Down !  while  the  boatswain,  promoted  by  Matt 
Peasley  to  second  mate,  was  laying  aloft  forward  shaking 
out  the  topsails  and  hoisting  her  head-sails.  When  the 
consul  looked  again,  the  American  barkentine  Retriever 
had  turned  her  tail  on  Cape  Town  and  was  scampering 
down  Table  Bay  with  a  bone  in  her  teeth;  heeling  gently 
to  the  freshening  breeze,  she  was  rolling  home  in  command 
of  the  boy  who  had  joined  her  five  months  before  as  an 
able  seaman. 

Matt  Peasley  rounded  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  nicely, 
but  he  had  added  materially  to  his  stock  of  seamanship 
before  he  won  through  the  tide-rips  off  Point  Aghulas 
and  squared  away  across  the  Indian  Ocean.  Coming  up 
along  the  coast  of  Australia  he  had  the  sou'east  trades  and 
he  crowded  her  until  Mr.  Murphy  forgot  the  traditions  of 
the  sea,  forgot  that  Matt  Peasley  was  the  skipper  and 
hence  not  to  be  questioned,  and  remembered  that  the 
madman  was  only  a  boy. 

"Captain  Matt,"  he  pleaded,  "take  some  clothes  off 
the  old  girl,  for  the  love  of  life!  She's  making  steamer 
time  now,  and  if  the  breeze  freshens  you'll  lift  the  sticks 
out  of  her." 

"Lift  nothing,  Mike.  I  know  her.  Cap'n  Noah  told 
me  all  about  her.  You  can  drive  the  Retriever  until  she 
develops  a  certain  little  squeak  up  forward — and  then 
it's  time  to  shorten  sail.  She  isn't  squeaking  yet,  Mike. 
Don't  worry.  She'll  let  us  know,"  and  his  beaming  glance 
wandered  aloft  to  the  straining  cordage  and  bellying 
canvas.  "Into  it,  sweetheart,"  he  crooned,  "into  it,  girl, 
and  we'll  show  this  Gappy  Ricks  what  we  know  about 


THE  BATTLE  OF  TABLE  BAY          71 

sailing  a  ship  that  can  sail !     Meager  maritime  experience, 
eh?     I'll  show  him!" 

Oh,  Sally  Brown,  I  love  your  daughter, 
I  love  your  daughter,  indeed  I  do, 

he   caroled,   and  buck-and-winged  his   way  back   to   the  • 
poop,  for  he  was  only  a  boy,  life  was  good,  he  was  fighting 
a   fight   and  as   Mr.   Murphy   remarked   a   minute   later 
when  Matt  ordered  him  to  bend  the  fore-staysail  on  her; 
"What  the  hell!" 

Day  and  night  Matt  Peasley  drove  her  into  it.  He 
stood  far  off  shore  until  he  ran  out  of  the  sou'east  trades, 
fiddled  around  two  days  in  light  airs  and  then  picked  up 
the  nor'east  trades ;  drove  her  well  into  the  north,  hauled 
round  and  came  romping  up  to  Grays  Harbor  bar  seventy- 
nine  days  from  Cape  Town.  A  bar  tug,  ranging  down 
the  coast,  hooked  on  to  him  and  snaked  him  in. 


CHAPTER    XI 

ME.    SKINNER    RECEIVES    A    TELEGRAM 

CAPPY  RICKS  was  having  his  customary  mid-afternoon 
nap  in  his  big  swivel  chair  and  his  feet  on  his  desk,  when 
Mr.  Skinner  came  in  and  woke  him  up. 

"I  just  couldn't  help  it,  sir,"  he  announced  apologetic 
ally,  as  Cappy  opened  one  eye  and  glared  at  him,  "I 
had  to  wake  you  up  and  tell  you  the  news." 

"Tell  it !"  Cappy  snapped. 

"The  Retriever  arrived  at  Grays  Harbor  this  morning, 
Mr.  Ricks.  She's  broken  the  record  for  a  fast  passage," 
and  he  handed  Cappy  Ricks  a  telegram. 

"Bless  my  withered  heart !"  Cappy  declared,  and  opened 
his  other  eye.  "You  don't  tell  me?  Well,  well,  well!  All 
Hands  And  Feet  is  making  good  right  off  the  bat,  isn't 
he?"  Cappy  chuckled.  "Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he 
bragged,  "did  you  ever  see  me  start  out  to  pick  a  skipper 
and  hand  myself  the  worst  of  it?" 

"No,  sir,"  Mr.  Skinner  maintained  dutifully,  and  turned 
away  to  hide  a  wicked  little  smile,  which  under  the  circum 
stances  Skinner  was  entitled  to. 

"And  you  never  will,  Skinner.  Paste  that  in  your 
hat,  boy.  That  big  Swede,  Peterson,  can  handle  a  ship 
as  well  as  he  can  handle  a  refractory  mate — and  that's 
going  some,  Skinner — going  some!  I'm  not  surprised  at 
his  fast  passage.  Not  at  all,  Skinner.  Come  to  think 
of  it,  I'm  going  to  fire  that  Scotchman  in  the  Fortuna 

72 


SKINNER  RECEIVES  A  TELEGRAM      73 

and    give    All    Hands    And    Feet    his    berth.      He    has 
earned  it." 

He  adjusted  his  spectacles  and  read: 

Hoquiam,  Washington, 

June  27,  19—. 

Blue  Star  Navigation  Company, 
258  California  St., 
San  Francisco. 

Arrived  this  morning,  seventy-nine  days  from  bar  16<| 
bar,  all  hands  well,  including  your  special  messenger. 
Offered  him  job  as  second  mate,  just  to  show  I  had  no 
hard  feelings,  but  he  would  not  work,  so  I  brought 
him  home  under  hatches.  Permitted  him  present  his 
formal  credentials  this  morning  and  turned  over  com 
mand  of  ship  to  him.  Declined  responsibility  and 
left,  saying  you  had  promised  him  command  four- 
masted  schooner.  Seemed  trifle  hurt,  although  it  is 
seventy-nine  days  since  I  thrashed  him.  Consequently 
I  am  still  in  command  and  awaiting  your  instruc 
tions. 

Peasley. 

For  a  long  time  Cappy  Ricks  kept  looking  sternly  at 
Mr.  Skinner  over  the  tops  of  his  spectacles.  There  was 
blood  on  the  moon  again,  and  the  silence  was  terrible.  He 
kept  rocking  gently  backward  and  forward  in  his  swivel 
chair,  for  all  the  world  as  though  preparing  for  a  panther- 
like  spring  at  Mr.  Skinner's  throat.  Suddenly  he 
exploded. 

"I  won't  have  another  thing  to  do  with  the  man  Peas- 
ley!"  he  shrilled.  "The  fellow  is  a  thorn  in  my  side  and 
I  want  peace!  Understand,  Skinner?  I — want — peace! 
in  blue  blazes  do  I  pay  you  ten  thousand  a  year  for 


74  CAPPY    RICKS 

if  it  isn't  to  give  me  peace?     Answer  me  that,  Skinner.** 
"Well   you   said  you   wanted   to   attend   to   the   ship- 
ping- 

"That'll  do,  Skinner — that'll  do !  You're  an  honorary 
member  of  the  I-told-you-so  Club  and  I'm  thoroughly  dis 
gusted  with  you.  Rid  me  of  this  man — immediately.  If 
I  ever  get  another  telegram  from  the  scoundrel  I  shall 
hold  you  personally  responsible." 

Forthwith  Mr.  Skinner  acted.  He  went  up  to  the  office 
of  the  United  States  District  Attorney  and  swore  out  a 
Federal  warrant  for  the  arrest  of  Matthew  Peasley  on  a 
charge  of  mutiny  and  insubordination,  assault  and  battery 
on  the  high  seas,  and  everything  else  he  could  think  of. 
The  authorities  promptly  wired  north  to  send  a  United 
States  marshal  down  to  Grays  Harbor  to  arrest  the 
culprit;  and  the  following  afternoon,  when  Cappy  Ricks 
got  back  to  his  office  after  luncheon  and  picked  up  the 
paper,  the  very  first  thing  his  glance  rested  on  was  the 
headline : 

MATE  CHARGED  WITH  MUTINY! 

Mutiny  and  sundry  other  crimes  on  the  high  seas  are 
out  of  the  ordinary ;  hence  the  United  Press  correspondent 
at  Hoquiam  had  considered  the  story  of  Matt  Peasley's 
arrest  worthy  of  dissemination  over  the  Pacific  Coast. 

Cappy  Ricks  read  it,  the  principal  item  of  interest  in 
it  being  a  purported  interview  with  Matt  Peasley,  who, 
in  choice  newspaperese,  had  entered  a  vigorous  denial  of 
the  charge.  The  story  concluded  with  the  statement  that 
Peasley  was  a  native  of  Thomaston,  Maine,  where  he  had 
always  borne  a  most  excellent  reputation  for  steadiness 
and  sobriety. 


SKINNER  RECEIVES  A  TELEGRAM      7$ 

Cappy  Ricks  laid  the  paper  aside. 

Thomaston,  Maine!  So  the  man  Peasley  was  a  Down- 
Easter!  That  explained  it. 

"Well,  I  hope  my  teeth  may  fall  into  the  ocean !"  Cappy 
murmured.  "Thomaston,  Maine!  Why,  he's  one  of  our 
'own  town  boys — one  of  my  own  people!  Dear,  dear, 
dear !  Well  now,  it's  strange  I  didn't  know  that  name.  I 
must  be  getting  old  to  forget  it." 

He  sat  in  his  swivel  chair,  rocking  gently  backward 
and  forward  for  several  minutes,  after  a  fashion  he  had 
when  perturbed.  Suddenly  his  old  hand  shot  out  and 
pressed  the  push  button  on  his  desk,  and  his  stenographer 
answered. 

"Send  Mr.  Skinner  in!"  he  commanded. 

Presently  Mr.  Skinner  came,  and  again  Cappy  eyed  him 
over  the  tops  of  his  spectacles  .*  again  the  terrible  silence. 
Skinner  commenced  to  fidget. 

"Skinner,"  began  Cappy  impressively,  "how  often  have 
I  got  to  tell  you  not  to  interfere  with  the  shipping?  Tut, 
tut!  Not  a  peep  out  of  you,  sir — not  a  peep!  You 
had  the  audacity,  sir,  to  swear  to  a  Federal  warrant 
against  the  man  Peasley.  How  dare  you,  sir!  Do  you 
know  who  the  man  Peasley  is?  You  don't.  Well,  sir, 
I'll  tell  you.  He's  a  Down-East  boy  and  I  went  to  school 
with  his  people.  I'll  bet  Ethan  Peasley  was  a  relative 
of  this  boy  Matt,  because  Ethan  had  a  cousin  by  the  name 
of  Matthew;  and  Ethan  and  Matt  and  I  used  to  hell 
around  together  until  they  went  to  sea. 

"Lord  bless  you,  Skinner,  I  can  remember  yet  the  day 
the  Martha  Peasley  came  up  the  harbor,  with  her  flag 
at  half-mast — and  poor  old  Ethan  was  gone — whipped 
off  the  end  of  her  main  yard  when  she  rolled! 

"We  were  great  chums,  Ethan  and  I,  Skinner;  and  I 


76  CAPPY    RICKS 

cried.  Why — why,  damn  it,  sir,  this  boy  Matt's  people 
and  mine  are  all  buried  in  the  same  cemetery  back  home. 
Yes,  sir!  And  nearly  all  of  'em  have  the  same  epitaph — 
'Lost  at  Sea' — and — you  idiot,  Skinner!  What  do  you 
mean,  sir,  by  standing  there  with  your  infernal  little  smile 
on  your  smug  face?  Out  of  my  office,  you  jackanapes, 
and  call  the  dogs  off  this  boy  Matt.  Why,  there  was 
never  one  of  his  breed  that  wasn't  a  man  and  a  seaman, 
every  inch  of  him. 

"All  Hands  And  Feet  thrash  a  Peasley !  Huh !  A  joke ! 
Why,  Ethan  was  six  loot  six  at  twenty,  with  an  arm  like 
a  fathom  of  towing  cable.  Catch  me  turning  down  one 
of  our  own  boys  !  No,  sir !  Not  by  a  damned  sight !" 

In  all  his  life  Mr.  Skinner  had  never  seen  Cappy  Ricks 
so  wrought  up.  He  fled  at  once  to  call  off  the  dogs,  while 
Cappy  turned  to  his  desk  and  wrote  this  telegram : 

San    Francisco,    California. 

June  28,  19 — . 
Matt  Peasley, 

Care  United  States  Marshal, 

Hoquiam,  Washington. 

Congratulations  on  splendid  voyage.  You  busted 
record.  Lindquist,  in  the  John  A.  Logan,  did  it  in 
eighty-four  days  in  the  spring  of  ninety-four.  Draw 
draft  and  pay  off  crew,  render  report  of  voyage,  place 
second  mate  in  charge,  and  proceed  immediately  to 
Seattle  to  get  your  master's  ticket.  Will  telegraph 
Seattle  inspectors  requesting  waive  further  probation 
as  first  mate  and  issue  license  if  you  pass  examination 
in  order  that  you  may  accept  captaincy  of  Retriever. 
Skinner,  my  manager,  had  you  arrested.  Would  never 
have  done  it  myself.  I  come  from  Thoraaston,  Maine, 


SKINNER  RECEIVES  A  TELEGRAM      77 

and  I  knew  your  people.  Would  never  have  sent  the 
Swede  had  I  known  which  tribe  of  Peasley  you 
belonged  to  —  though,  if  he  had  licked  you,  no  more 
than  you  deserved.  I  want  no  more  of  your 
impudence,  Matt. 

Alden  P.  Ricks. 


a  week  business  droned  along  in  Gappy  Ricks' 
office  as  usual,  interrupted  at  last  by  the  receipt  of  a 
telegram  from  Matt  Peasley  to  Gappy.  It  was  sent  from 
Seattle  and  read: 

"Have  now  legal  right  to  be  called  captain.  Rejoin 
ship  tomorrow.  Wire  orders.  Thank  you." 

"God  bless  the  lad!"  Gappy  murmured  happily.  "I'll 
bet  he's  going  to  make  me  a  skookum  skipper.  Still,  I 
think  he's  pretty  young  and  sadly  in  need  of  training;  so 
I'll  have  to  take  some  of  the  conceit  out  of  him.  I'm 
going  to  proceed  to  break  his  young  heart  ;  and  if  he  yells 
murder  I'll  fire  him!  On  the  contrary,  if  he's  one  of 
Ethan's  tribe  —  well,  the  Peasley's  always  did  their  duty; 
I'll  say  that  for  them.  I  hope  he  stands  the  acid." 

Whereupon  Gappy  Ricks  squared  round  to  his  desk 
and  wrote: 

San  Francisco,  July  5,  19  —  . 
Captain  Matthew  Peasley, 

Master  Barkentine  Retriever, 

Hoquiam,  Washington. 

Glad  you  have  legal  right  to  be  called  captain. 
Sorry  I  have  not.  Proceed  to  Weatherby's  mill.,  at 
Cosmopolis,  and  load  for  Antofagasta,  Chile.  Re- 


78  CAPPY    RICKS 

member  speed  synonymous  with  dividends  in  shipping 
business. 

Blue  Star  Navigation  Company. 

When  Cappy  signed  his  telegrams  with  the  company 
name  it  was  always  a  sure  indication  he  had  discharged 
his  cargo  of  sentiment  and  gotten  down  to  business  once 
more. 

"A  little  creosoted  piling  now  and  then  is  bully  for 
the  best  of  men,"  he  cackled.  "For  a  month  of  Sundays 
that  man  Peasley  will  curse  me  as  far  as  he  can  smell  the 
Retriever.  Oh,  well !  Every  dog  must  have  his  day — 
and  I'm  a  wise  old  dog.  I'll  teach  that  Matt  boy  some 
respect  for  his  owners  before  I'm  through  with  him  !** 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE    CAMPAIGN    OPENS 

WHEN  Matt  Peasley's  Yankee  combativeness,  coupled 
with  the  accident  of  birth  in  the  old  home  town  of  Gappy 
Ricks,  gained  for  him  command  of  the  Blue  Star  Naviga 
tion  Company's  big  barkentine,  Retriever,  he  lacked  eight 
days  of  his  twenty-first  birthday.  He  had  slightly  less 
beard  than  the  average  youth  of  his  years;  and,  despite 
the  fact  that  he  had  been  exposed  almost  constantly  to 
salty  gales  since  his  fourteenth  birthday,  he  did  not  look 
his  age.  And  of  all  the  ridiculous  sights  ashore  or  afloat 
the  most  ridiculous  is  a  sea  captain  with  the  body  of  a 
Hercules  and  the  immature  features  of  an  eighteen-year- 
old  boy. 

Indeed,  such  a  great,  soft,  innocent  baby  type  was  Matt 
Peasley  that  even  the  limited  sense  of  humor  possessed  by 
his  motley  crew  forbade  their  reference  to  him,  after 
custom  immemorial,  as  the  Old  Man.  The  formal  title  of 
captain  seemed  equally  absurd;  so  they  compromised  by 
dubbing  him  Mother's  Darling. 

"If,"  quoth  Mr.  Michael  Murphy,  chief  kicker  of  the 
Retriever,  over  a  quiet  pipe  with  Mr.  Angus  MacLean, 
the  second  mate,  as  the  vessel  lay  at  anchor  in  Grays 
Harbor,  "Cappy  Ricks  had  laid  eyes  on  Mother's  Darling 
before  ordering  him  to  Seattle  to  go  up  for  his  master's 
ticket,  the  old  fox  would  have  scuttled  the  ship  sooner  than 
trust  that  baby  with  her.1* 

79 


So  GAPPY   RICKS 

"Ye'll  nae  be  denying  the  lad  kens  his  business,"  Mr. 
MacLean  declared. 

"Aye !  True  enough,  Mac ;  but  'twould  be  hard  to 
convince  Gappy  Ricks  o'  that.  Every  skipper  in  his 
employ  is  a  graybeard." 

"Mayhap,"  the  canny  MacLean  retorted.  "That's 
because  t'owd  boy's  skippers  have  held  their  berths  ower 
long." 

But  Mr.  Murphy  shook  his  head.  He  had  come  up  from 
before  the  mast  in  the  ships  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company,  and  since  he  had  ambitions  he  had  been  at  some 
pains  to  acquaint  himself  with  the  peculiarities  of  the 
president  of  that  corporation. 

"Give  Cappy  Ricks  one  look  into  Matt  Peaeley's  face 
and  I'll  be  skippering  the  Retriever,"  he  declared. 

And  in  this  he  was  more  than  half  right,  for  Cappy 
Ricks  had  never  met  Matt  Peasley,  and  when  the  Old  Man 
made  up  his  mind  that  he  wanted  the  boy  to  skipper  his 
barkentine,  the  Retriever,  he  was  acting  entirely  on 
instinct.  He  only  knew  that  in  Matt  Peasley  he  had  a  man 
who  had  shipped  out  before  the  mast  and  returned  from 
the  voyage  in  command  of  the  ship,  and  naturally  such  an 
exploit  challenged  recognition  of  the  most  signal  nature — 
particularly  when,  in  its  performance,  the  object  of  Cap- 
py's  admiration  had  demonstrated  that  he  was  possessed 
of  certain  sterling  attributes  which  are  commonly  sup 
posed  to  make  for  success  in  any  walk  of  life. 

Since  Matt  Peasley  had  accomplished  a  man's  work 
it  never  occurred  to  Cappy  Ricks  to  consider  that  the 
object  of  his  interest  might  be  a  boy.  Young  he  knew 
him  to  be — that  is  to  say,  Cappy  figured  the  rascal  to  be 
somewhere  between  thirty  and  thirty-five. 

Had  he  known,  however,  that  his  prospective  captain 


THE  CAMPAIGN  OPENS  81 

had  but  recently  attained  his  majority  the  Old  Mai) 
would  have  ascribed  Matt  Peasley's  record-breaking 
voyage  from  Cape  Town  to  Grays  Harbor  as  sheer  luck, 
and  forthwith  would  have  set  Master  Matthew  down  for  a 
five-year  apprenticeship  as  first  mate ;  for  Gappy  was  the 
product  of  an  older  day,  and  held  that  gray  hairs  and 
experience  are  the  prime  requisites  for  a  berth  as  master. 

Any  young  upstart  can  run  coastwise,  put  in  his 
service  sailing  a  ship  from  headland  to  headland,  and  then 
take  a  course  in  a  navigation  school,  where  in  six  weeks 
he  can  cram  sufficient  navigation  into  his  thick  head  to 
pass  the  inspectors  and  get  a  master's  ticket;  but  for 
offshore  cruising  Gappy  Ricks  demanded  a  real  sailor  and 
a  thorough  business  man  rolled  into  one. 

Mother's  Darling  had  returned  to  Grays  Harbor 
from  a  flying  visit  to  Seattle,  where  two  grizzled  old 
ex-salts,  the  local  inspectors,  had  put  him  through 
a  severe  examination  to  ascertain  what  he  knew  of 
Bowditch  on  Navigation  and  Nichols  on  Seamanship. 
Naturally  he  did  not  know  as  much  as  the}'  thought  he 
should;  but,  out  of  sheer  salt-water  pride  in  the  exploit 
of  a  stripling  and  in  deference  to  a  letter  from  Gappy 
Ricks  requesting  them  to  waive  further  probation  as  chief 
mate  and  issue  Mr.  Peaslcy  his  master's  license  if  they 
found  him  at  all  competent — this  in  order  that  the  said 
Peasley  might  take  command  of  his  barkentine,  the 
Retriever,  forthwith — the  inspectors  concluded  to  override 
the  rules  of  the  Department  of  Commerce,  and  gave  Matt 
Peasley  his  master's  license. 

Upon  his  return  from  Seattle,  Matt  called  at  the 
telegraph  office  in  Hoquiam  and  received  his  loading 
instructions  from  the  owners.  His  heart  beat  high  with 
youthful  importance  and  the  joy  of  victory  as  he  almost 


82  CAPPY    RICKS 

ran  to  the  water  front  and  engaged  a  big  gasoline  launch 
to  take  him  aboard  the  Retriever  and  then  kick  her  into  the 
mill  dock  at  Cosmopolis.  His  ship  was  not  where  he  had 
left  her,  however,  and  after  an  hour's  search  he  discovered 
her  several  miles  up  the  Chehalis  river.  Murphy  was  on 
deck,  gazing  wistfully  at  the  house  and  wishing  he  had 
some  white  paint,  when  Matt  Peasley  came  aboard.  Even 
before  the  latter  leaped  to  the  deck  Mr.  Murphy  knew 
the  glad  tidings — knew  them,  in  fact,  the  very  instant  the 
boy's  shining  countenance  appeared  above  the  rail.  The 
skipper  was  grinning  fatuously  and  Mr.  Murphy  grinned 
back  at  him. 

"Well,  sir,"  he  greeted  young  Matt,  "I  see  you're  the 
permanent  skipper.  I  congratulate  you." 

"Thank  you,  Mike.  And  I  hope  you  will  have  no 
objection  to  continuing  in  your  berth  as  first  mate.  I 
realize  I'm  pretty  young  for  an  old  sailor  like  you  to  be 
taking  orders  from " 

"Bless  your  soul,  sir,"  Mr.  Murphy  protested;  "of 
course  I'll  stick  with  you !  Didn't  you  whale  the  big  Swede 
Cappy  Ricks  sent  to  Cape  Town  to  kick  you  out  of  your 
just  due?"  He  reaffirmed  his  loyalty  with  a  contemptuous 
grunt. 

"What  are  you  doing  way  up  the  river?"  the  captain 
demanded. 

"Oh,  that's  a  little  liberty  I  took,"  the  mate  declared. 
"You're  new  to  this  coast;  and,  of  course,  when  they 
ordered  us  to  Grays  Harbor  I  knew  we  weren't  going  to  be 
able  to  go  on  dry  dock,  because  there  isn't  any  dry  dock 
here.  So,  while  you  were  in  Seattle,  I  had  a  gasoline  tug 
tow  us  up-river.  We've  been  lying  in  fresh  water  four 
days,  sir,  and  that'll  kill  most  of  the  worms  on  her 
bottom." 


THE  CAMPAIGN  OPENS  83 

"Hereafter,"  said  Matt  Peasley,  "you  get  ten  dollars 
a  month  above  the  scale.  Thank  you." 

Mr.  Murphy  acknowledged  his  appreciation. 

"Any  orders,  sir?"  he  continued. 

Matt  Peasley  showed  him  Cappy  Ricks'  telegram  and 
Mr.  Murphy  nodded  his  approval.  He  had  been  in  port 
nearly  a  week  and  the  whine  of  the  sawmills  and  the  reek 
of  river  water  had  begun  to  get  on  his  nerves.  He  was 
ready  for  the  dark  blue  again. 

"There's  something  wrong  about  our  cargo,  I  think," 
Matt  remarked  presently. 

"Why,  sir?" 

"Why,  down  at  the  telegraph  office  this  morning  I  met 
the  master  of  the  schooner,  Carrier  Dove,  and  when  I  told 
him  my  orders  he  snickered." 

"Huh !  Well,  he  ought  to  know  what  he  snickered  about, 
sir.  The  Carrier  Dove  just  finished  loading  at  Weather- 
by's  mill,"  Mr.  Murphy  replied.  "She's  a  Blue  Star  craft 
and  bound  for  Antofagasta  also.  Her  skipper's  Salva 
tion  Pete  Hansen,  and  it  would  be  just  like  that  square 
head  to  dodge  a  deckload  of  piling  and  leave  it  for  us." 

"Well,  whatever  it  was  it  amused  him  greatly.  It  must 
be  worse  than  a  deckload  of  piling." 

"There's  nothing  worse  in  the  timber  line,  unless  it's 
a  load  underdeck,  sir.  You  take  a  sixty-foot  pile  with 
a  fourteen-inch  butt  and  try  to  shove  it  down  through 
the  hatch,  and  you've  got  a  job  on  your  hands.  And 
after  the  hold  is  half  filled  you've  got  to  quit  loading 
through  the  hatch,  cut  ports  in  your  bors,  and  shove  the 
sticks  in  that  way.  It's  the  slowest  loading  and  discharg 
ing  in  the  world;  and  unless  you  drive  her  between  ports 
and  make  up  for  the  lost  time  you  don't  make  a  good 
showing  with  your  owners — and  then  your  job's  in  danger. 


84  GAPPY    RICKS 

Ship   owners    never    consider    anything   except    results.'5 

"Well,"  the  captain  answered,  "in  order  not  to  waste 
any  more  time  than  is  absolutely  necessary,  call  Mr.  Mac- 
Lean  and  the  cook,  and  we'll  go  for'd  and  break  out  the 
anchor." 

Immediately  on  his  arrival  from  Cape  Town,  Matt 
Peasley  had  paid  off  all  his  foremast  hands,  leaving  the 
two  mates  and  the  cook  the  only  men  aboard  the  vessel. 
He  joined  them  now  in  a  walk  around  the  capstan ;  the 
launch  hooked  on  and  the  Retriever  was  snaked  across  the 
harbor  to  Weatherby's  mill.  And,  while  they  were  still 
three  cables'  length  from  the  mill  dock,  Mr.  Murphy,  who 
had  taken  up  his  position  on  the  topgallant  forecastle, 
to  be  ready  with  a  heaving  line,  suddenly  raised  his  head 
and  sniffed  upwind. 

The  captain  had  the  wheel  and  Mr.  MacLean  was  stand 
ing  aft  waiting  to  do  his  duty  by  the  stern  line.  Pres 
ently  he,  too,  raised  his  head  and  sniffed. 

"I  see  you  got  it  too,  Mac,"  Mr.  Murphy  bawled. 

"Aw,  weel,"  Mr.  MacLean  replied ;  "Why  worrit  aboot 
a  bridge  till  ye  hae  to  cross  it?  D'ye  ken  'tis  oors?" 

"What  are  you  two  fellows  talking  about  and  why  are 
^rou  sniffing?"  Matt  Peasley  demanded. 

"I'm  sniffing  at  the  same  thing  Salvation  Pete  Hansen 
laughed  about,"  the  mate  answered.  "I'll  bet  you  a  uni 
form  cap  we're  stuck  with  a  cargo  of  creosoted  piling — 
and  hell  hatli  no  fury  like  a  creosoted  pile." 

When  the  vessel  had  been  made  fast  to  the  mill  dock 
Matt  Peasley  walked  forward  to  meet  his  mate. 

"What  about  this  cargo  of  ours?"  he  demanded. 
"Remember,  I'm  new  to  the  lumber  trade  on  this  coast.  I 
have  never  handled  any  kind  of  piling." 

"Then,  sir,  you're  going  to  get  your  education  like 


THE  CAMPAIGN  OPENS  85 

the  boa  constrictor  that  swallowed  the  nigger — all  in  one 
long,  slimy  bite." 

He  gazed  at  his  boyish  skipper  appraisingly. 

"No,"  he  murmured  to  himself;  "I  can't  do  it.  I  like 
you  for  the  way  you  whaled  that  big  Swede  in  Cape  Town, 
but  this  is  too  much." 

"Why,  I  don't  find  the  odor  so  very  unpleasant,"  the 
master  declared ;  "in  fact,  I  rather  like  it,  and  I  know  it's 
healthy,  because  I  remember,  when  my  brother  Ezra  had 
pneumonia,  they  burned  creosote  in  the  room." 

"Oh,  nobody  objects  to  the  smell  particularly,  sir, 
though  it's  been  my  experience  that  anybody  can  cheapen 
a  good  thing  by  overuse — and  we  have  three  months  of 
that  smell  ahead  of  us.  It's  the  taste  that  busts  my 
bobstay." 

"Why,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Well,  you  see,  sir,  the  odor  of  creosote  is  so  heavy  it 
won't  float  in  the  air,  but  just  settles  down  over  every 
thing,  like  mildew  on  a  pair  of  boots.  So  it  gets  in  the 
stores  and  you  taste  it.  You  can  store  flour  below  deck 
aft  and  creosoted  piling  on  deck  for'd — and  you  won't  be 
out  two  weeks  before  that  flour  is  spoiled.  Same  way  with 
the  tea,  coffee,  sugar,  mush,  salt-horse — everything.  It 
all  tastes  of  creosote ;  and  then  the  damned  stuff  rubs  off 
on  the  ship  and  ruins  the  paintwork.  And  if  the  crew 
happen  to  have  any  cuts  or  abrasions  on  their  hands 
they're  almost  certain  to  get  infected  with  the  awful  stuff, 
and  you'll  be  kept  busy  doctoring  them.  Then,  the  first 
thing,  along  comes  a  gale  and  you're  short-handed,  and 
there's  the  devil  to  pay." 

"Aye !"  Mr.  MacLean  interrupted  solemnly.  "I  dinna 
care  for  creosote  mysel',  sir ;  so,  wi'  your  kind  permission, 
I'll  hae  ma  time — an'  I'll  hae  it  noo." 


86  GAPPY    RICKS 

Matt  Peasley  bent  upon  the  recalcitrant  Scotchman  a 
withering  glare.  "Very  well,  Mr.  MacLean,"  he  said 
presently,  "I  never  could  sail  in  the  same  ship  with 
a  quitter ;  so  you  might  as  well  go  now,  when  we  can  part 
good  friends."  He  turned  to  Mr.  Murphy.  "How  about 
you,  Mike?  Are  you  going  to  run  out  on  me,  too?'' 

Now,  as  between  the  Irish  and  the  Scotch,  history 
records  no  preponderance  of  courage  in  either,  for  both 
are  Gaels  and  a  comparison  is  difficult. 

However,  Scotchmen  are  a  conservative  race  and  will 
walk  round  a  fight  rather  than  be  forced  into  it,  while  all 
that  is  necessary  to  make  an  Irishman  fight  is  to  impugn 
his  courage. 

Mr.  Murphy  had  seen  the  fight  ahead  of  the  Retriever 
and  he  did  not  blame  Mr.  MacLean  for  side-stepping  it. 
Indeed,  he  had  intended  pursuing  the  same  course ;  but 
Matt  Peasley,  by  his  latest  remark,  had  rendered  that 
impossible.  To  desert  now  would  savor  of  dishonor ;  and, 
moreover,  Matt  Peasley,  though  master,  had  called  him 
by  his  Christian  name.  Mr.  Murphy  touched  his  fore 
lock  respectfully. 

"I  am  not  Scotch,"  he  announced,  with  a  slight  em 
phasis  on  the  pronoun.  "Shame  on  you,  Angus  MacLean 
— ditching  the  skipper  like  that !" 

"Sticks  an'  stones  may  break  ma  bones,  but  namcs'll 
never  hur-rt  me,"  Mr.  MacLean  retorted.  "I  tell  ye  I 
dinna  care  for  creosote  in  ma  porridge."  And  lie  followed 
Matt  Peasley  aft,  where  the  latter  paid  him  off  and  gave 
him  five  minutes  to  pack  and  get  off  the  ship.  Immedi 
ately  after  supper  the  cook  followed  the  second  mate ; 
but,  since  the  former  was  a  Jap  and  probably  the  worst 
marine  cook  in  the  world,  his  departure  occasioned  no 
heartache. 


THE  CAMPAIGN  OPENS  87 

"We'll  board  at  the  mill  cook-house  until  we're  loaded, 
Mike,"  Matt  Peasley  informed  the  mate.  "They  have  a 
good  Chink  up  there." 

Mr.  Murphy  sighed  as  he  loaded  his  pipe  and  struck  a 
match  for  it. 

"It  does  look  to  me,  sir,"  he  replied,  with  that  touch  o' 
conscious  superiority  so  noticeable  in  the  Celt,  "as  though 
Cappy  Ricks  might  have  slipped  this  cargo  to  a  Dutch- 
man." 

The  Retriever  commenced  taking  on  cargo  at  seven 
o'clock  the  following  morning,  with  Mr.  Murphy  on  ship 
board  and  Matt  Peasley  on  the  dock  superintending  the 
gang  of  stevedores.  Ordinarily  the  masters  of  lumber 
freighters  ship  their  crews  before  commencing  to  load,  in 
order  that  sailors  at  forty  dollars  a  month  may  obviate 
the  employment  of  an  equal  number  of  stevedores  at  forty 
cents  an  hour;  but  Mr.  Murphy,  out  of  his  profound 
experience,  advised  against  this  course,  as  tending  to 
spread  the  news  of  the  Retriever's  misfortune  and  militate 
against  securing  a  crew  when  the  vessel  should  be  loaded 
and  lying  in  the  stream  ready  for  sea.  Men  employed  now, 
he  explained,  would  only  desert.  The  thing  to  do  was  to 
let  a  Seattle  crimp  furnish  the  crew,  sign  them  on  before 
the  shipping  commissioner  in  Seattle,  bring  them  aboard 
drunk,  tow  to  sea,  and  let  the  rascals  make  the  best  of  a 
bad  bargain. 

The  hold  was  about  half  filled,  and  the  ship  carpenters 
were  at  work  cutting  ports  in  the  Retriever's  bows,  when 
Matt  Peasley  discovered  that  the  mill  did  not  have  in 
hand  any  order  for  lumber  to  be  used  as  stowage  to  snug 
up  the  cumbersome  cargo  below  decks  and  keep  it  from 
rolling  and  working  in  a  seaway.  Accordingly  he  wired 
his  owners  as  follows : 


88  GAPPY    RICKS 

Cosmopolis,  Washington,  July  7,  19—-. 
Blue  Star  Navigation  Compan}', 
258  California  St., 

San  Francisco,  California. 
No  stowage. 

Peasley. 

Cappy  Ricks  having  deliberately  conspired  to  hang  a 
series  of  dirty  cargoes  on  his  newest  skipper,  for  the  dual 
purpose  of  teaching  Matt  Peasley  his  place  and  discover 
ing  whether  he  was  worthy  of  it,  grinned  evilly  when  he 
received  that  two-word  message ;  and,  not  to  be  out-done 
in  brevity,  he  dictated  this  answer: 

San  Francisco,  California,  July  7,  19 — . 
Captain  Matthew  Peasley, 

Master  Barkentine  Retriever, 

Care  Weatherby's  mill,  Cosmopolis,  Wash. 
Know  it. 

Blue  Star  Navigation  Company. 

Matt  Peasley 's  cheeks  burned  when  he  read  thai 
message.  Indeed,  could  Cappy  Ricks  have  been  privileged 
to  hear  the  terse  remarks  his  telegram  elicited,  there  is 
no  doubt  he  would  have  sent  Mr.  Skinner  up  to  the 
custom-house  immediately  to  file  a  certificate  of  change  of 
master. 

"Ha !"  Mr.  Murphy  snorted  when  Matt  showed  him  the 
message.  "I  get  the  old  sinner  now.  This  is  to  be  a 
grudge  fight,  Captain  Matt.  You  wished  yourself  onto 
him  in  Cape  Town  against  his  will,  and  now  he's  made  up 
his  mind  that  so  long  as  you  wanted  the  job  it's  yours — 
only  he'll  make  you  curse  the  day  you  ever  moved  your 


THE  CAMPAIGN  OPENS  89 

sea  chest  into  the  skipper's  cabin.  He's  going  to  send 
us  into  dogholes  to  load  and  open  roadsteads  to  discharge ; 
and  if  he  can  find  a  dirty  cargo  anywhere  we'll  get  it.  But 
it's  carrying  a  grudge  too  far  not  to  give  us  stowage." 

"Well,  it's  his  ship,"  Matt  Peasley  declared  passion 
ately.  "If  the  old  chief  can  gamble  on  good  weather  I 
guess  I  can  gamble  on  my  seamanship — and  yours." 

The  mate  inclined  his  head  at  the  delicate  compliment ; 
and  Matt,  observing  this,  decided  that  a  few  more  of  the 
same  from  time  to  time  would  do  much  to  alleviate  a  diet 
of  creosote. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

AN  OLD  FRIEND  RETURNS  AND  CAPPY  LEADS  ANOTHER  ACE 

THREE  days  before  the  Retriever  finished  loading,  the 
c&ptain  wired  a  trustworthy  Seattle  crimp  recommended 
by  Mr.  Murphy,  instructing  him  to  send  down  a  second 
mate,  eight  seaman  and  a  good  cook — and  to  bring  them 
drunk,  because  the  vessel  was  laden  with  creosoted  piling, 
Captain  Noah  Kendall,  Matt's  predecessor  on  the 
Retriever,  had  been  raised  on  clipper  ships  and  as  he  grew 
old  had  allowed  himself  the  luxury  of  a  third  mate,  to 
which  arrangement  Cappy  Ricks,  having  a  certain 
affection  for  Captain  Noah,  had  never  made  any 
objection;  but  something  whispered  to  Matt  Peasley  that 
the  quickest  route  to  Cappy's  heart  would  be  via  a  short 
payroll,  so  he  concluded  to  dispense  with  a  third  mate  and 
tack  ten  dollars  a  month  extra  on  the  pay-check  of  the 
excellent  Murphy. 

The  Retriever  was  lying  in  the  stream  fully  loaded 
when  the  crew  arrived,  convoyed  by  the  crimp's  runner. 
In  accordance  with  instructions  they  were  drunk,  the 
crimp  having  furnished  his  runner  with  a  two-gallon  jug 
of  home-made  firewater  upon  leaving  Seattle.  One  man — 
the  second  mate — was  fairly  sober,  however,  and  while  the 
launch  that  bore  him  to  the  Retriever  was  still  half  a  mile 
from  the  vessel  the  breezes  brought  him  an  aroma  which 
could  not,  by  any  possibility,  be  confused  with  the 
concentrated  fragrance  of  the  eight  alcoholic  breaths  be'rg 

90 


THE  UNWILLING  WRETCH  WAS  CARRIED  STRUGGLING  TO  PURGATORY 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  RETURNS  91 

V 

exhaled  around  him.  Muttering  deep  curses  at  his 
betrayal,  he  promptly  leaped  overboard  and  essayed  to 
swim  ashore.  The  runner  pursued  him  in  the  launch, 
however,  and  gaffed  him  by  the  collar  with  a  boat-hook; 
the  launch-man,  for  a  consideration,  aided  the  runner,  and 
the  unwilling  wretch  was  carried  struggling  to  purgatory. 

"Oh,  look  who's  here!"  Mr.  Murphy  yelled  to  the 
skipper,  as  the  bedraggled  second  mate  was  propelled 
forceably  up  the  ship's  companion-ladder  to  the  waiting 
arms  of  the  first  mate.  "Welcome  home,  Angus,  my  lad." 

It  was  Mr.  MacLean,  their  quondam  second  mate,  cast 
back  on  the  deckload  of  the  Retriever  by  the  resurgent 
tide  of  maritime  misfortune.  Mr.  Murphy  sat  down  and 
held  himself  by  the  middle  and  laughed  until  the  tears 
ran  down  his  ruddy  cheeks,  while  Matt  Peasley  joined 
heartily  in  the  mirth.  The  unfortunate  Mr.  MacLean  also 
wept — but  from  other  causes,  to  wit — grief  and  rage. 

"I'm  happy  to  have  you  with  us  again,  Mr.  MacLean," 
Matt  saluted  the  second  mate.  "While  your  courage  and 
loyalty  might  be  questioned,  your  ability  may  not.  So  the 
crimp  swindled  you,  eh?  Told  you  he  wanted  you  for 
another  ship  and  then  switched  the  papers  on  you,  eh?" 

"You  should  never  trust  a  crimp,  Angus,"  Mr.  Murphy 
warned  him.  "And  you  should  never  do  business  with 
them  unless  you're  cold  sober.  Let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you, 
my  lad.  Never  be  a  drinking  man  and  you'll  never  have 
to  go  to  a  crimp  for  a  snug  berth.  Run  along  to  your  old 
room,  now,  Angus,  and  shift  into  some  dry  clothes,  if 
you  expect  to  finish  the  voyage." 

"I'll  gie  ye  ma  worrd  I'll  desert  in  th'  discharrgin' 
port !"  Mr.  MacLean  burred  furiously.  "Ye  hae  me  noo, 
body  an'  bones " 

"Aye,  and  we'll  keep  you,  Angus.    Have  no  fear  of  that 


92  CAPPY    RICKS 

And  you'll  not  desert  in  the  discharging  port.  I'll  see 
to  that,"  Matt  Peasley  assured  him. 

When  the  last  man  had  been  assisted  aboard  Matt 
signalled  for  the  tug  he  had  engaged.  By  the  time  she  had 
hooked  on  and  towed  them  over  the  bar  three  of  the 
seamen  were  sober  enough  to  assist  the  skipper  and  the 
mates  in  getting  all  plain  sail,  with  the  exception  of  the 
squaresails,  on  her,  and,  with  a  spanking  nor'west  breeze 
on  her  quarter  she  rolled  away  into  the  horizon. 

Despite  the  fact  that  the  Retriever's  bottom  was  rather 
foul  with  marine  growth,  and  the  further  fact  that  her 
master  had  to  lay  her  head  under  her  wing  in  a  blow 
which,  with  an  ordinary  cargo,  he  would  have  bucked  right 
into,  the  run  to  Antofagasta  was  made  in  average  time. 
And  when  Matt  Peasley  went  ashore  to  report  by  cable 
to  his  owners  he  discovered  that  Cappy  Ricks  had 
provided  him  with  a  cargo  of  nitrate  for  Makaweli. 

"What  did  I  tell  you,  sir?"  Mr.  Murphy  growled  when 
the  captain  informed  him  of  the  owners'  orders.  "I  tell 
you,  sir,  the  dirtiest  cargo  Cappy  Ricks  can  find  is  too 
good  for  us.  Praise  be,  the  worst  we  can  get  at  Makaweli 
is  a  sugar  cargo." 

Mr.  Murphy's  grudge  against  nitrate  lay  in  the  annoy 
ance  incident  to  taking  on  the  cargo  properly.  Nitrate 
is  very  heavy  and  cannot,  like  sugar,  be  loaded  flush  with 
the  hatches,  thus  rendering  shifting  of  the  cargo  impos 
sible.  In  loading  nitrate  a  stout  platform  must  be  erected 
athwartship,  above  the  keelsons,  in  order  that  the 
foundation  of  the  cargo  may  be  laid  level;  for,  as  the 
sacked  nitrate  is  piled,  the  pile  must  be  drawn  in  gradually 
until  the  sides  meet  in  a  peak  like  a  roof.  It  must  then  be 
braced  and  battened  securely  with  heavy  timbers  from  each 
side  of  the  ship,  in  order  that  the  dead  weight  may  be 


AN  OLD  FRIEND  RETURNS  93 

held  In  the  center  of  the  ship  and  keep  her  in  trim.  Woe 
to  the  ship  that  shifts  a  cargo  of  nitrate  in  a  heavy  gale ; 
for  it  is  a  tradition  of  the  sea  that,  once  a  vessel  rolls 
her  main  yard  under,  she  will  not  roll  it  back,  and 
ultimately  is  posted  at  Lloyd's  as  missing. 

When  the  cargo  was  out  Mr.  Murphy  went  ashore  and 
purchased  a  lot  of  Chinese  punk,  which  he  burned  in  the 
hold,  with  the  hatches  battened  down,  while  Mr.  MacLean, 
who  had  once  been  a  druggist's  clerk,  and  who,  by  the 
way,  had  concluded  to  stay  by  the  ship,  sloshed  down  the 
decks  with  an  aromatic  concoction  mixed  by  a  local  apoth 
ecary.  The  remnant  of  their  spoiled  stores  Matt  Peasley, 
like  a  true  Yankee,  sawed  off  to  good  advantage  on  a 
trustful  citizen  of  Antofagasta,  and  credited  the  ship 
with  the  proceeds ;  after  which  he  got  his  nitrate  aboard 
and  squared  away  for  the  Hawaiian  Islands. 

The  run  to  Makaweli  was  very  slow,  for  the  ship  was 
logy  with  the  grass  and  barnacles  on  her  bottom.  At 
Makaweli  he  found  a  sugar  cargo  awaiting  him  for 
discharge  at  Seattle ;  and,  thanks  to  the  northwest  trades 
at  her  quarter,  the  Retriever  wallowed  home  reasonably 
fast. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

INSULT    ADDED    TO    INJURY 

WHEN  Matt  Peasley's  report  of  that  long  voyage 
reached  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  it  was  opened 
by  Mr.  Skinner,  who,  finding  no  letter  inclosed,  had  a 
clerk  check  and  verify  it,  and  then  pass  it  on  to  old  Cappy 
Ricks. 

"Where's  the  letter  that  came  with  this  report, 
Skinner?"  Cappy  piped. 

"He  didn't  inclose  one,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"Im-possible !" 

"All  of  Captain  Peasley's  communications  with  this 
office  since  he  entered  our  employ  have  been  by  wire." 

"But — dad-burn  the  fellow,  Skinner — why  doesn't  he 
write  and  tell  us  something?" 

"About  what?" 

"Why,  about  his  ship,  his  voyage — any  old  thing.  An 
owner  likes  to  have  a  report  on  his  property  once  in  a 
while,  doesn't  he?  Unless  we  happen  to  charter  the 
Retriever  for  a  cargo  to  her  home  port,  you  know  very 
well,  Skinner,  we  may  not  see  her  for  years.  Besides,  I've 
never  seen  the  man  Peasley,  and  if  he'd  only  write  now 
and  then  I  could  get  a  line  on  him  from  his  letters.  I  can 
always  tell  a  fool  by  the  letter  he  writes,  Skinner." 

"Well,  then,"  Skinner  replied.  "Peasley  must  be  a  wise 
man,  because  he  never  writes  at  all.  The  only  specimen 
of  that  fellow's  handwriting  I've  ever  seen  is  his  signature 

94 


INSULT  ADDED  TO  INJURY  95 

on  the  drafts  he  draws  against  us.  You  will  notice  that 
he  has  even  engaged  a  stenographer — at  his  own  expense, 
so  the  clerk  informs  me — to  typewrite  his  statement  of 
account." 

"Then  that  explains  it,  Skinner.  The  big-fisted  brute 
can't  write  a  hand  that  anybody  could  read.  But,  stills 
he  should  have  dictated  a  letter,  Skinner.  The  least  he 
might  have  done  was  to  say :  'Inclosed  herewith  find  my 
report  of  disbursements  for  last  voyage.'  And  then  he 
could  have  slipped  in  some  mild  complaint  about  the 
creosote,  the  trouble  he  had  in  getting  a  crew,  and  so  on." 

"I  don't  see  why  you  complain  about  a  lack  of 
correspondence,  sir,"  Mr.  Skinner  protested.  "For  my 
part,  I  think  it  a  profound  relief  to  have  a  captain  that 
isn't  writing  or  wiring  in  complaints  about  slow  dispatch 
in  loading  or  discharging,  his  private  feuds  with  marine 
cooks  and  walking  delegates  from  the  Sailors'  Union. 
Confound  these  fellows  that  are  always  unloading  a  cargo 
of  woe  on  their  owners !  It  strikes  me  that  they're  trying 
to  square  themselves  for  incompetence." 

"I  agree  with  you,  Skinner.  But  then,  all  the  Thomas- 
ton  Peasleys  were  quick-tempered  and  wouldn't  be 
imposed  on ;  and  I  hate  to  think  I've  picked  the  only  one  of 
the  tribe  who  will  dog  it  and  never  let  a  peep  out  of  him." 

"Oh!"  said  Mr.  Skinner.  "I  see!  You  want  him  to 
start  something  with  you,  eh?" 

Cappy  evaded  this  blunt  query,  however,  and  turned  his 
attention  to  the  report. 

"Hello !"  he  said.  "I'm  blessed  if  he  hasn't  anticipated 
the  very  question  I  should  have  asked.  Here's  a  footnote 
in  red  ink :  'Decided  not  to  carry  third  mate.  Two  mates 
ample.'  And  so  two  mates  are  ample,  Skinner,  though  I 
used  to  humor  Cap'n  Noah  with  three.  This  confirms  me 


96  CAPPY    RICKS 

in  the  belief  that  Peasley  must  be  a  young  man,  Skinner, 
and  not  afraid  to  stand  a  watch  himself  if  necessary.  And 
here's  another  footnote:  'Chief  Mate  Michael  J.  Murphy 
very  gallantly  declined  to  leave  when  he  smelled  the 
creosote,  and  was  a  tower  of  strength  when  it  came  to 
stowing  the  nitrate.  He  holds  an  unlimited  mate's  license, 
is  sober,  intelligent,  courageous,  honest  and  a  hard  worker. 
He  goes  up  for  his  master's  license  this  week !" 

"Ah-h-h !"  Cappy  Hicks  looked  up,  smiling.  "Skinner," 
he  declared,  "it  is  as  hard  to  keep  a  good  man  down  as  it 
is  for  a  camel  to  enter  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven — I  mean 
for  a  rich  man  to  enter  a  camel — bother!  I  mean  you 
can't  keep  a  good  man  down,  Skinner.  And  this  is  the 
reason :  The  first  mate,  Murphy,  wanted  to  leave,  but  his 
loyalty  would  not  permit  it.  Hence  the  man  Peasley  must 
be  a  good,  fair,  decent  man,  to  inspire  such  loyalty.  He 
is,  and  this  report  proves  it.  His  action  in  bringing 
Murphy  to  our  attention  indicates  appreciation  and  a 
sense  of  justice.  Good!  Skinner,  make  a  note  of  the 
qualifications  of  Michael  J.  Murphy  for  a  master's  berth 
and  give  him  the  first  opening." 

He  returned  to  a  perusal  of  the  report. 

"Huh!  Harump-h-h-h !  'Credit  by  skipper's  rake-off 
on  stores,  and  so  on,  $57.03.'  Skinner,  that  proves  the 
man  Peasley  is  too  decent  and  honest  to  accept  a 
commission  from  the  thieves  who  supply  his  vessel,  because 
he  knows  that  if  they  give  him  a  commission  they'll  only 
tack  it  on  to  the  bill,  where  he  can't  see  it.  Well !  All  the 
Thomaston  Peasleys  were  honest,  Skinner.  No  thanks  to 
him.  Still,  it's  a  shame  to  give  him  another  rough  deal, 
for  apparently  he  has — er — many — er — commendable 
qualities.  Still — er — Skinner,  I've  just  got  to  have  a 
letter  from  the  man  Peasley,  if  it  is  only  a  letter  of 


INSULT  ADDED  TO  INJURY  g? 

resignation.     Get  him  another  dirty  cargo,  Skinner,  tEe 
dirtier  the  better." 

The  dirtiest  cargo  Mr.  Skinner  could  think  of,  with  the 
exception  of  a  load  of  creosoted  piling,  was  another  cargo 
of  the  same.  So  he  scoured  the  market  and  finally  he 
found  one  on  Puget  Sound,  whereupon  he  sent  Matt 
Peasley  a  telegram  ordering  him  to  tow  to  the  Ranier  Mill 
and  Lumber  Company's  dock  at  Tacoma,  and  load  for 
Gallao.  At  the  same  time  he  wired  the  Ranier  people 
requesting  them  to  be  ready  to  furnish  cargo  to  the 
Retriever  the  following  day — this  on  the  strength  of  a 
telegram  from  Matt  Peasley  received  the  previous  day 
informing  his  owners  that  he  was  discharged  and  awaiting 
orders. 


CHAPTER    XV 

HUMORS    OF    WAS 

WHEN  four  days  had  elapsed  the  manager  of  the  Ranier 
mill  wired  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  that  the 
Retriever  had  not  yet  appeared  at  their  dock. 

Now  four  days  wasted  means  something  to  a  big 
barkentine  like  the  Retriever ;  and  in  the  absence  of  any 
excuse  for  the  delay  Cappy  Ricks  promptly  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  Matt  Peasley  was  ashore  in  Seattle, 
disporting  himself  after  the  time-honored  custom  of 
deep-sea  sailors  home  from  a  long  cruise.  There  could  be 
no  other  reason  for  such  flagrant  inattention  to  orders ; 
for,  had  the  man  Peasley  been  ill,  the  mate,  Murphy,  whom 
the  captain  vouched  for  as  sober  and  intelligent,  would 
have  had  his  superior  sent  to  a  hospital  and  wired  the  office 
for  orders. 

"Skinner,"  said  Cappy,  "send  in  a  stenographer.'* 

When  the  girl  appeared  Cappy  Ricks  dictated  this  wire : 

Captain  Matthew  Peasley, 

Master  Barkentine  Retriever, 

Colman  Dock,  Seattle,  Washington. 
Are  you  drunk,  dead  or  asleep?     You  have  your 
orders.    Obey  them  P.  D.  Q.  or  turn  over  command  to 
Chief  Mate  Murphy. 

Alden  P.  Ricks. 

"There !"  he  shrilled.    "I've  signed  my  name  to  it.    Siga 

98 


RUMORS  OF  WAR  99 

a  telegram  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  and  these 
infernal  skippers  think  a  clerk  sent  it ;  but  when  they  know 
the  boss  is  on  to  them  they'll  jump  lively.  Bring  me  the 
answer  to  that  as  soon  as  it  comes,  Skinner." 

However,  the  answer  did  not  come  that  day.  Indeed, 
the  next  day  had  almost  dragged  to  a  close  before  Mr. 
Skinner  appeared  with  this  telegraphic  bomb: 

Alden  P.  Ricks, 

258  California  St., 
San  Francisco. 

Neither !  Been  waiting  my  turn  to  go  on  dry  dock. 
On  now.  Didn't  reply  yesterday  because  too  busy 
driving  toothpicks  in  vessel's  bottom  to  plug  up 
wormholes.  If  Murphy  hadn't  hauled  into  fresh 
water  last  time  on  Grays  Harbor  while  I  was  in 
Seattle  getting  my  ticket,  her  bottom  would  look  like 
a  colander  now.  Sixteen  months  in  the  water.  You 
ought  to  be  ashamed  to  treat  a  good  staunch  ship  like 
that.  Off  dock  day  after  to-morrow;  will  tow  to 
Tacoma  immediately  thereafter.  Meantime  expect 
apology  for  insulting  telegram. 

Peasley. 

Sixteen  months  without  dry-docking!  Why,  her 
bottom  must  look  like  the  devil !  Cappy  Ricks  gazed  long 
and  earnestly  at  his  general  manager. 

"Skinner,"  he  said,  "you're  an  ass !  Why  was  not  this 
vessel  dry-docked  before  you  sent  her  to  Antofagasta?" 

Mr.  Skinner  lost  his  temper. 

"Because  I  didn't  send  her  to  Antofagasta,"  he  replied 
sharply.  "You  did !  And  the  reason  she  wasn't  docked 
is  because  there  isn't  a  dock  on  Grays  Harbor.  If  you 


ioo  CAPPY    RICKS 

wouldn't  interfere  in  the  shipping,  Mr.  Ricks,  and  spoil 
mj  plans  to  satisfy  your  personal  whims,  the  vessel  would 
never  have  gone  on  that  long  voyage  without  being  cleaned 
and  painted." 

"Enough !"  Cappy  half  screamed.  "It's  a  disgrace ! 
Not  another  word,  sir!  Not  another  peep  out  of  you. 
Why  didn't  you  order  the  man  Peasley  to  dock  her?  Why 
did  you  leave  the  decision  to  him?  He  knew  his  vessel 
was  foul — he  thought  we  ought  to  know  it,  also ;  and 
naturally  he  expected  that  when  we  ordered  him  to  Seattle 
we  would  have  made  arrangements  to  put  him  on  dry  dock. 
Instead  of  which  he  had  to  make  them  himself;  and  I'm 
shown  up  as  a  regular,  infernal — er — er — baboon !  Yes, 
sir !  Regular  baboon !  Nice  spectacle  you've  made  of  me, 
getting  me  into  a  scrape  where  I  have  to  apologize  to  my 
own  captain !  Baboon !  Huh !  Baboon !  Yes ;  you're 
the  baboon!" 

"Well,  I  can't  think  of  everything,  Mr.  Ricks " 

"Everything !  Good  Lord,  man,  if  you'd  only  think 
of  something!  Send  in  a  stenographer." 

Mr.  Skinner  rang  for  the  girl  and  retired  in  high 
dudgeon,  while  Cappy  Ricks  smote  his  corrugated  brow 
and  brought  forth  the  following: 

Captain  Matthew  Peasley, 

Master  Barkentine  Retrieved, 

Hall's  Dry  Dock,  Eagle  Harbor,  Wash. 
"Yes ;  that  was  a  grave  oversight  sending  you  to 
Antofagasta  without  docking  you  first.  Express  my 
appreciation  of  Murphy's  forethought  in  killing  some 
of  the  worms.  Am  not  kind  of  owner  that  lets  a  ship 
go  to  glory  to  make  dividends.  Keep  your  vessel  in 
top-notch  shape  at  all  times,  though  I  realize  this 


RUMORS  OF  WAR  101 

instruction  unnecessary  to  you.  Give  the  old  girl  aM 
that  is  coming  to  her,  including  two  coats  X.  &  Y. 
copper  paint.  Replace  all  planking  that  looks 
suspicious. 

Alden  P.  Ricks. 

"I  guess  that's  friendly  enough,"  he  soliloquized.  ''I 
think  he'll  understand.  I  don't  have  to  crawl  in  the  dirt 
to  let  him  know  I'm  sorry." 

Cappy  had  recovered  his  composure  by  the  following 
morning  and  was  addressing  Mr.  Skinner  as  "Skinner, 
my  dear  boy,"  when  another  telegram  from  Matt  Peasley 
created  a  very  distinct  variation  in  his  mental  compass. 
It  ran  as  follows: 

Alden  P.  Ricks, 

258  California  St., 

San  Francisco. 

X.&Y.  copper  paint  no  good.  That  brand  used  last 
time ;  hence  worms  got  to  her  quickly.  Giving  her  two 
coats  O.  &  Z.  Costs  more,  but  does  the  business. 
Renewed  about  a  dozen  planks.  Repair  bill  about 
offsets  profit  on  that  infernal  nitrate.  Your  apology 
accepted,  but  do  not  say  that  again ! 

Peasley. 

*'  'Your  apology  is  accepted !'  "   Cappy's   voice   rose, 
shrill  with  anger.    "Why,  the  infernal — er — er — porpoise 
Me  apologize  to  a  man  I  employ!     By  jingo,  I'd  fire  him 
first!     Yes,    sir — fire    him    like    that!"     The    old    man 
snapped  his  fingers. 

"Really,  Skinner,  I  don't  know  what  I'm  going  to  do 
about  the  man  Peasley.  I  want  to  befriend  him,  because 
he's  one  of  my  own  people,  so  to  speak ;  but  I  greatly  fear, 


102  CAPPY    RICKS 

Skinner,  I  shall  have  to  rough  him.  Here  he  is,  disputing 
with  me — with  me,  Skinner — the  relative  merits  of  copper 
paint.  And  not  only  disputing,  sir,  but  disobeying  my 
specific  instructions.  Also,  he  permits  himself  the  luxury 
of  criticism.  Well !  I'll  not  fire  him  this  time ;  but,  by  the 
gods,  I'll  give  him  a  blowing-up  he'll  remember.  Skinner, 
send  in  a  stenographer." 

"Take   letter,"   the   old   man   ordered   presently,   and 
proceeded  to  dictate : 

Captain  Matthew  Peasley, 

Master  Barkentine  Retriever, 
Care  Rainier  M.  &  L.  Co., 
Tacoma,  Washington. 

Sir: — Your  night  letter  of  the  fifth  is  before  me 
and  treasured  for  its  unparalled  effrontery. 

Please  be  advised  that  in  future,  when  an  extraor 
dinary  outlay  of  cash  for  your  vessel's  accounts  is 
contemplated,  this  office  should  first  be  consulted. 
When,  in  your  judgment,  your  vessel  requires  dock 
ing,  repairs,  new  spars,  canvas,  and  so  on,  you  will 
apprise  us  before  proceeding  to  run  up  a  bill  of 
expense  on  your  owners.  Your  business  is  to  navigate 
your  vessel.  Spending  money  judiciously  is  a  fine  art 
which  no  sailor,  to  my  knowledge,  has  ever  acquired. 

Though  admitting  that  the  vessel  needed  docking, 
I  maintain  you  should  have  wired  us  of  that  fact, 
whereupon  we  would  have  ordered  you  to  the  dry  dock 
patronized  by  this  company.  It  is  customary  for 
owners  to  express  a  preference  for  dry  docks  and 
copper  paint ;  and  in  presuming  to  go  counter  to  my 
specific  instructions  in  the  matter  of  paint  you  are 
prejudicing  your  future  prospects  with  this  company. 


RUMORS  OF  WAR  103 

Another  exhibition  of  your  arrogance,  impudence, 
general  bad  manners  and  lack  of  knowledge  of  the 
ethics  of  your  profession  will  result  in  prompt 
dismissal  from  the  service  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company. 

Yours,  and  so  on, 
Alden  P.  Ricks,  President. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

WAR! 

THE  receipt  of  Cappy  Ricks'  letter  actually  frightened 
Matt  Peasley  for  about  thirty  seconds.  Then  he  reread 
the  last  paragraph.  Like  a  dutiful  servant  he  forgave 
Cappy  the  letter's  reference  to  arrogance,  impudence  and 
general  bad  manners;  but  the  reference  to  his  lack  of 
knowledge  of  the  ethics  of  his  profession  made  him 
fighting  mad. 

Cappy  Ricks  might  just  as  well  have  passed  him  the 
supreme  insult  of  the  seas:  "Aw,  go  buy  a  farm!"  He 
showed  the  letter  to  Mr.  Murphy. 

"Why,  that's  adding  insult  to  injury!"  the  mate 
declared  sympathetically. 

The  youthful  master  threw  up  both  hamlike  hands  in 
token  of  complete  surrender  and  profound  disgust. 

"There's  the  gratitude  of  an  owner!"  he  raved.  "He 
wires  me  my  loading  orders  and  never  says  a  word  about; 
docking — though  as  managing  owner  it's  up  to  him  to, 
know  when  the  vessel  needs  docking.  I  can't  plan  her 
coinings  and  goings  so  that  at  the  proper  time  she'll  find 
herself  at  a  port  with  a  dry  dock.  Of  course  when  he 
wired  me  my  loading  orders  I  realized  he  wasn't  going  to 
dock  me ;  so  I  took  matters  into  my  own  hands.  Why, 
Mike,  I  wouldn't  skipper  a  ship  so  foul  she  can  hardly 
answer  her  helm.  How  could  I  know  he'd  forgotten  she 
needed  docking?  I'm  not  a  mind  reader." 

104 


WAR!  105 

"I  suppose  he's  been  so  busy  hunting  another  dirty 
cargo  for  us  he  hadn't  time  to  think  of  the  vessel,"  Mr. 
Murphy  sneered,  and  added:  "The  dirty  old  skin-flint!" 

"Well,  I'll  just  tell  Gappy  Ricks  where  to  head  in!" 
Matt  stormed.  "Let  him  fire  me  if  he  wants  to.  I  don't 
care  to  sail  a  ship — particularly  a  dirty  ship — foi  any 
man  who  thinks  I  don't  know  my  business.  Mike,  I'm  go 
ing  to  send  him  a  telegram  that'll  burn  his  meddling,  old 
fingers." 

"Give  him  hell  for  me !"  pleaded  Mr.  Murphy.  "If  he 
fires  you  I'll  quit,  too." 

The  result  of  this  colloquy  was  that  Gappy  Ricks 
received  this  night  letter  the  following  morning: 

Alden  P.  Ricks, 

258  California  St., 

San  Francisco. 

Referring  your  letter.  Men  that  taught  me  nautical 
ethics  expected  things  done  without  orders,  minus 
thanks  for  doing  them  well,  plus  abuse  for  doing  them 
poorly.  Regard  your  criticism  as  out  of  place.  Am 
not  the  seventh  son  of  a  seventh  son.  How  could  I 
know  you  had  overlooked  fact  that  vessel  needed 
docking?  Your  business  to  plan  my  voyages  to  get 
me  to  dry-dock  port  at  least  once  a  year.  When  you 
wired  loading  orders,  concluded  you  were  cheap 
owner;  hence  decided  dock  her  without  orders. 
Expect  to  be  fired  sooner  or  later,  but  will  leave  good 
ship  behind  me  so  my  successor  cannot  say,  "Peasley 
let  her  run  down."  Had  I  waited  orders,  vessel  would 
have  been  ruined.  Yet  you  have  not  sufficient  grace 
to  express  your  thanks.  Had  I  not  acted  in  this 
emergency,  you  would  have  fired  me  later  for  incompe- 


io6  CAPPY    RICKS 

tence,  and  blacklisted  me  for  not  telling  you  what  you 
know  you  ought  to  know  without  being  told. 

Referring  copper  paint,  I  know  from  practical  ex 
perience  which  brand  is  best ;  you  know  only  what 
paint  dealer  tells  you.  Will  not  stand  abuse  for  know 
ing  my  business  and  attending  to  it  without  instruc 
tions  from  landlubber!  When  you  appointed  me  you 
said  remember  speed  synonymous  with  dividends  in 
shipping  business.  How  can  I  make  fast  passages 
with  whiskers  two  feet  long  on  my  keel?  Send  new 
flying  jib  and  spanker  next  loading  port.  Send  new 
skipper,  too,  if  you  feel  that  way  about  it. 

Peasley. 

"Well,  Skinner,"  Cappy  Ricks  (declared,  "this  is  the 
first  time  a  skipper  in  my  employ  ever  talked  back — and 
it'll  be  the  last.  I've  had  enough  of  this  fellow's  impu 
dence,  Skinner.  He's  right  at  that — blast  him — but  he's 
too  much  of  a  sea  lawyer ;  and  I  won't  have  any  employee 
of  mine  telling  me  how  to  run  my  business.  Send  in  a 
stenographer." 

When  the  stenographer  entered  Cappy  Ricks  said: 
"Ahem-m !  Harump-h-h-h !  Take  telegram :  'Captain 
Matthew  Peasley,  care  Rainier  Mill  and  Lumber 
Company,  Tacoma,  Washington.  You're  fired !  Ricks.' 
'Ahem !  Huh !  Har-ump !  Take  'nother  telegram  :  'Mr. 
Michael  J.  Murphy,  First  Mate  Barkentine  Retriever' — » 
same  address  as  Peasley — 'Accept  this  telegram  as  your 
formal  appointment  to  command  of  our  barkentine, 
Retriever,  vice  Matthew  Peasley,  discharged  this  day; 
forwarding  to-morrow  certificate  of  change  of  master.' 
Sign  that :  'Blue  Star  Navigation  Company,  per  Alden  P. 
Ricks,'  and  get  both  telegrams  on  the  wire  right  away." 


WAR!  107 

Cappy  turned  to  Mr.  Skinner  and  chuckled  sardonic- 
ally. 

"I'll  bet  that  will  gravel  the  man  Peasley,"  he  declared. 
"There's  nothing  harder  on  a  captain  than  being  fired,  and 
succeeded  by  his  own  mate — particularly  after  he  has  so 
recently  recommended  that  mate!  Peasley  will  be  wild — 
the  pup !" 

"Well,"  Mr.  Skinner  replied,  "appointing  Mr.  Murphy 
certainly  has  this  advantage, — he's  there  on  the  ground 
and  we  are  thus  spared  the  expense  of  sending  a  man  from 
here." 

"That's  one  of  the  reasons  why  I  appointed  him — one 
of  three  very  excellent  reasons,  in  fact.  Now  we'll  wait 
and  see  what  the  man  Peasley  has  to  say  to  that 
tllegram." 

They  had  to  wait  about  two  hours,  and  this  was  what 
Matt  Peasley  had  to  say : 

"Many  thanks.  The  second  mate  and  the  cook  quit 
the  minute  they  discovered  it  was  to  be  another  cargo 
of  creosoted  piling;  and  now  that  I  am  fired  Mr. 
Murphy  has  concluded  that  he  might  as  well  quit  also. 
Will  stick  by  ship,  however,  until  you  send  my 
successor ;  meantime  loading  continues  as  usual." 

"Well,  that's  what  the  man  Peasley  says !"  Cappy 
snapped.  "Murphy's  quit,  eh?  Well,  I  guess  Mr.  Murphy 
hadn't  received  my  telegram  when  Peasley  sent  this 
message.  It'll  take  more  than  a  cargo  of  creosoted  piling 
to  keep  Murphy  out  of  the  master's  cabin  when  he  hears 
from  me." 

The  stenographer  entered  with  another  telegram. 

"Ah!"  Cappy  remarked,  and  rubbed  his  hands  together 


i  oS  CAPPY    RICKS 

in  pleased  anticipation.     "I  dare  say  this  is  from  Mr. 
Murphy." 

It  was ;  and  this  is  what  the  loyal  Murphy  had  to  say : 

"I  thank  you  for  the  consideration.  Very  sweet  of 
you;  but  I  wouldn't  work  for  you  again  on  a  bet. 
You  couldn't  hand  me  a  ripe  peach !  Master  or  mate, 
creosote  tastes  the  same  to  me.  At  Captain  Peasley's 
request  am  staying  by  vessel  until  new  master  arrives 
and  hires  new  mate.  Would  have  stuck  by  vessel  for 
Old  Man's  sake  if  you'd  slipped  us  cargo  of  uncrated 
rattlesnakes ;  but  since  I  encouraged  him  to  tell  you 
things  for  good  of  your  soul  and  you  fired  him  for 
it  I  must  decline  to  profit  by  his  misfortune." 

Silently  Cappy  Ricks  folded  that  telegram  and  laid  it 
on  his  desk ;  his  head  sagged  forward  on  his  breast  and  he 
fell  to  meditating  deeply.  Finally  he  looked  up  and 
eyed  Mr.  Skinner  over  the  rims  of  his  spectacles. 

"Skinner,"  he  said  solemnly,  "do  you  realize,  my  boy, 
,that  we  have  two  extremely  remarkable  men  on  the  bark- 
jentine  Retriever?" 

"They  are  certainly  most  remarkably  deficient  in  respect 
to  their  superiors,  though  in  all  probability  exceedingly 
capable  seamen,"  Mr.  Skinner  answered  sympathetically, 
for  he  had  great  veneration  for  the  creator  of  the  pay  roll. 

"I  know,"  Cappy  replied  sadly ;  "but  then,  you  know, 
Skinner,  the  good  Lord  must  certainly  hate  a  bootlicker  . 
Skinner,  I  simply  cannot  afford  to  lose  those  two  damned 
scoundrels  in  the  Retriever.  They're  good  men!  And  a 
good  man  who  knows  he's  good  will  not  take  any  slack 
from  man  or  devil ;  so  I  cannot  afford  to  lose  those  two. 
Skinner,  I've  got  myself  into  an  awful  mess.  Here  I've 


WAR!  109 

Been  running  by  dead  reckoning  and  now  I'm  on  the  rocks ! 
What'U  I  do,  Skinner?  I'm  licked;  but,  dang  it  all,  sir, 
I  can't  admit  it,  can  I?  Isn't  there  some  way  to  referee 
this  scrap  and  call  it  a  draw?" 

"I  see  no  way  out  of  it  now  except  to  send  another 
captain  to  Tacoma." 

"Skinner,"  he  declared,  "you're  absolutely  no  use  to  me 
in  an  emergency.  When  I  made  you  my  general  manager, 
on  a  bank  president's  salary,  I  thought  I'd  be  able  to  takq 
it  easy  for  the  rest  of  my  life."  He  wagged  his  head  sadly, 
"And  what's  the  result  ?  I  work  harder  than  ever.  Skinner* 
if  I  hadn't  any  more  imagination  than  you  posses^ 
I'd  be  out  there  on  the  corner  of  California  and  Market 
Streets  peddling  lead  pencils  this  minute.  Leave  this 
problem  to  me,  Skinner.  I  suppose  I'll  find  a  way  out  o$ 
it,  with  entire  honor  to  all  concerned.  Holy  sailor!"  he 
added.  "But  that  man  Murphy  is  loyal — and  loyalty  ig 
a  pretty  scarce  commodity  these  days,  let  me  tell  you!" 


CHAPTER,  XVII 

CAPPY    FORCES    AN    ARMISTICE 

DURING  the  week  that  succeeded,  Cappy  Ricks  did  not 
once  mention  the  subject  of  the  Retriever  and  her 
recalcitrant  skipper  and  mate;  and  Mr.  Skinner  argued 
from  this  that  all  was  well.  Finally  one  day  Cappy  came 
into  the  office  and  paused  beside  the  general  managers 
desk.  He  was  grinning  like  a  boy. 

"Well,  Skinner,"  he  piped.  "I've  just  come  from  the 
Merchants'  Exchange  and  I  see  by  the  blackboard  that 
our  Retriever  cleared  for  Antofagasta  yesterday." 

"Indeed !"  Mr.  Skinner  replied  politely.  "So  you  found 
a  captain  for  her.  Whom  did  you  send?" 

"Nobody,"  the  old  man  cackled.  "Matt  Peasley  took 
her  out,  and  the  manager  of  the  Rainier  mill  wires  me 
that  Murphy  went  with  him  as  chief  kicker.  .What  do  you 
think  of  that?" 

"Why,  I'm — er — satisfied  if  you  are,  sir." 

"Well,  you  can  bet  I'm  satisfied.  If  I  wasn't  I'd  have 
a  revenue  cutter  out  after  the  man  Peasley  and  his  mate 
right  now.  By  golly,  Skinner,"  he  piped,  and  slapped 
his  wizened  flank,  "I  tell  you  I've  worked  this  deal  pretty 
slick,  if  I  do  say  it  myself.  And  all  on  dead  reckoning, 
— dead  reckoning,  and  not  a  single  day  of  demurrage !" 

"Oh!  So  you  wired  Peasley  and  the  mate  and  asked 
them  to  go  back  to  work  and  forget  they  were 
discharged  ?"  Mr.  Skinner  suggested  witheringly. 

no 


CAPPY  FORCES  AN  ARMISTICE        in 

"Skinner,  on  my  word,  you  grow  worse  every  day. 
You've  been  with  me,  man  and  boy,  twenty-odd  years, 
and  in  all  that  time  you  never  saw  anybody  cover  me  with 
blood,  did  you?" 

"No,  sir." 

"And  you  never  will.  Why,  I  managed  this  affair  by 
simply  forgetting  all  about  it!  When  you're  in  a  jam, 
Skinner,  always  let  the  other  fellow  do  the  talking.  I 
just  sat  tight  until  I  had  a  telegram  from  the  man  Peas- 
ley,  informing  me  that  the  vessel  would  be  loaded  in  two 
days  and  that  his  successor  had  not  appeared  as  yet.  I 
threw  that  telegram  in  my  wastebasket;  and  when  the 
vessel  was  loaded  I  had  another  telegram  from  Peasley, 
saying  that  the  vessel  was  loaded,  that  his  successor  was 
still  missing,  and  the  mill  manager  was  kicking  and 
insisting  that  the  ship  be  hauled  away  from  the  dock  to 
make  room  for  a  steam  schooner  which  wanted  to  load.  So 
I  filed  that  telegram  in  the  wastebasket  also.  It  was  a 
night  letter,  delivered  in  the  morning. 

"When  Peasley  didn't  get  an  answer  by  noon  he  wired 
again,  saying  that,  as  a  favor  to  me,  he  would  haul  the 
Retriever  into  the  stream,  but  would  accept  no  respon 
sibility  for  delay  thereafter.  He  said  further  that,  as  a 
courtesy  to  me  and  his  successor,  he  was  shipping  a  crew 
that  day  in  order  that  there  might  be  no  delay  in  sailing 
when  the  new  captain  arrived;  so  I  thought  I  had  better 
reply  to  that  telegram,  Skinner — and  I  did!" 

"What  did  you  say,  Mr.  Ricks?" 

"I  said:  'Please  do  not  annoy  me  with  your  telegrams. 
You  were  fired  a  week  ago,  but  it  seems  difficult  for  you  to 
realize  that  fact.  If  demurrage  results  through  my  failure 
to  get  new  skipper  there  in  time,  that  is  no  skin  off 
your  nose.  Your  pay  goes  on  until  you  are  relieved,  and 


ii2  GAPPY    RICKS 

you  will  be  relieved  when  I  get  good  and  ready.'  That 
telegram  did  the  business,  Skinner.  He  received  it  the 
day  before  yesterday  and  yesterday  he  towed  out !" 

Cappy  Ricks  burst  into  a  shrill  senile  cackle  that  was 
really  good  to  hear.  As  they  grow  old  most  men  lose  that 
capacity  for  a  hearty  laugh,  but  Cappy's  perversity  had 
kept  him  young  at  heart.  The  tears  of  mirth  cascaded 
down  his  seamed  old  countenance  now,  and  he  had  to  sit 
down  and  have  his  laugh  out. 

"Oh,  thunder!"  he  panted.  "Really,  Skinner — there's 
so  much  fun  in  business  I  wonder  why  a  man  can  retire — 
just  because  he's  made  his  pile !  Skinner,  I  had  it  on  the 
man  Peasley  a  thousand  miles — and  he  never  guessed  it! 
Dear,  dear  me!  You  see,  Skinner,  when  he  wired  me  he 
would  not  accept  responsibility  for  demurrage  to  the 
vessel  after  she  was  loaded  and  hauled  into  the  stream,  he 
forgot  that  he  had  to  accept  responsibility  for  the 
vessel  himself  until  his  successor  should  arrive ! 

"Of  course,  the  man  Murphy  could  quit  any  time  he 
desired ;  but  if  the  skipper  deserted  the  ship  before  being 
properly  relieved,  and  then  something  happened  to  the 
vessel  and  I  preferred  charges  against  him,  the  inspectors 
might  be  induced  to  revoke  his  license — and  he  realized 
that.  The  knowledge  made  him  hopping  mad,  Skinner ; 
and  when  he  got  my  telegram  I  knew  he  would  begin 
to  figure  out  some  plan  to  make  me  mad !  And,  of  course, 
I  knew  Murphy  would  help  him  out — the  Irish  are 
imaginative  and  vindictive;  and — oh,  dear  me,  Skinner — 
read  that !"  And  Cappy  handed  h; ,  general  manager  the 
following  telegram: 

You  are  right.    I  will  be  relieved  when  I  get  good 
and  ready,  and  I  wfll  not  be  ready  until  I  get  back 


CAPPY  FORCES  AN  ARMISTICE       113 

from  Antofagasta.  Shipped  crew  yesterday  after 
noon.  All  arrived  drunk.  Next  morning  all  hands 
sober.  Realizing  predicament,  riot  resulted.  Fear 
ing  lose  crew,  Murphy  and  I  manhandled  and 
locked  in  fo'castle.  When  your  telegram  arrived  it 
found  Murphy  minus  front  tooth,  myself  black  eye. 
Can  stand  injury,  but  not  insult.  Hence  you  are  stuck 
with  us  for  another  voyage,  whether  you  want  us  or 
not.  Will  have  towed  out  by  time  you  receive  this. 
Go  to  Halifax! 

Peasley. 

Mr.  Skinner's  face  was  cold  and  austere  as  he  handed 
'this  telegram  back  to  Cappy. 

"So  you  made  peace  with  honor,  eh?"  he  sneered. 

"Peace  your  grandmother!"  Cappy  chirped.  "This 
war  goes  on  until  I  get  a  letter  from  the  man  Peasley. 
Skinner,  he  and  Murphy  think  they've  done  something 
wonderfully  brilliant.  When  I  wired  him  he  would  be 
relieved  when  I  got  good  and  ready  it  did  him  an  awful  lot 
of  good  to  throw  the  words  back  in  my  face.  Sure, 
Skinner!  They  think  they're  giving  Cappy  Ricks  the 
merry  ha-ha!" 

"Well,  of  course,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Skinner,  "if  this  sort 
of  horseplay  is  your  fun — if  it's  your  notion  of  business — 
I  have  no  comment.  Your  own  fifteen-sixteenths  of  the 
Retriever,  and  you  can  afford  to  pay  for  your  fancies ;  but 
if  it  was  the  last  act  of  my  life  I'd  fire  that  man  Peasley 
in  Callao  and  let  him  get  home  as  best  he  could." 

"Yes ;  I  know,"  Cappy  replied  bitterly.  "You  fired 
him  in  Cape  Town  once — and  how  did  he  come  home  ?  He 
jcame  home  in  the  cabin  of  the  Retriever — that's  how  he 
<came  home ;  and  the  Terrible  Swede  I  sent  to  thrash  him 


ii4  CAPPY    RICKS 

and  fire  him  came  home  under  hatches.  Yes;  you'd  do  a 
lot  of  things,  Skinner — in  your  mind." 

Mr.  Skinner  pounded  his  desk  savagely.  Cappy's  re 
tort  made  him  boiling  mad. 

"Well,  I'll  bet  I'd  do  something,"  he  rasped.  "I'd  make 
that  bucko  suffer  or  I'd  know  the  reason  why." 

"Skinner,  that's  just  what  we're  going  to  do — just 
what  we're  doing,  in  fact.  One  of  my  ancestors  sailed 
with  the  late  John  Paul  Jones  and  ever  since  the  Ricks' 
family  motto  has  been:  'I  have  not  yet  begun  to  fight.' 
Now  listen  to  reason,  Skinner.  The  Retriever  just  came 
off  dry-dock,  didn't  she?  Well,  it  stands  to  reason  she 
was  dirty  after  that  last  cargo  of  creosoted  piling;  and 
it  stands  to  reason,  also,  that  the  man  Peasley  slicked 
her  up  with  white  paint  until  she  looked  like  an  Easter 
bride.  A  Scandinavian  doesn't  give  a  hoot  if  his  vessel 
is  tight,  well  found  and  ready  for  sea;  but  a  Yankee 
takes  a  tremendous  pride  in  his  ship  and  likes  to  keep  her 
looking  like  a  yacht.  And  just  think,  Skinner,  how  the 
man  Peasley  must  have  felt  when  he  came  off  dry  dock, 
all  clean  and  nice,  and  then  had  to  slop  her  up  with 
another  cargo  of  creosoted  piling?  Just  think  of  that, 
Skinner !"  and  again  he  commenced  his  insane  cackle. 

"I  have  other,  and  more  important  things  to  think 
about,"  Mr.  Skinner  retorted  icily.  As  a  business  man  he 
^as  opposed  to  levity  in  the  office.  "What  are  your  plans 
with  reference  to  the  Retriever?  Do  you  wish  to  bring 
her  back  from  Antofagasta  in  ballast?" 

"Why,  certainly  not.  Hunt  a  cargo  for  her,  Skinner. 
We  might  just  as  well  let  the  man  Peasley  know  that 
though  he's  gone  he's  not  forgotten.  Use  the  cable  freely 
and  see  if  you  can't  pick  up  something  for  the  return  trip 
that  will  make  those  two  firebrands  sick  at  the  stomach." 


CAPPY  FORCES  AN  ARMISTICE       115 

A  month  later  Mr.  Skinner  stepped  into  Cappy's 
sanctum. 

"Well,"  he  announced.  "I've  got  a  return  cargo  for 
the  Retriever." 

"What  have  you  got?"  Cappy  demanded  anxiously; 
and  Mr.  Skinner  told  him. 

"No?"  said  Cappy  incredulously. 

"Yes !"  Mr.  Skinner  assured  him. 

Cappy's  laughter  testified  to  his  hearty  approval. 

"Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he  cried.  "I  don't  know  what 
I'd  do  without  you." 

And  then  he  laid  his  wicked  old  head  on  his  desk  and 
laughed  until  he  wept.  Indeed,  Mr.  Skinner  so  far 
forgot  his  code  as  to  laugh  with  him. 

"We'll  stink  those  two  vagabonds — those  maritime 
outlaws — out  of  the  ship,"  he  declared. 


CHAPTER 


THE    WAR    IS    RENEWED 

THE  belief  that  they  had  come  off  victorious  in  their 
skirmish  with  Cappy  Ricks  cheered  Matt  Peasley  and  his 
mate  for  the  first  two  weeks  out  from  Puget  Sound; 
after  which  the  creosote  commenced  to  season  their  food, 
and  then  the  victory  began  to  take  on  the  general  appear 
ance  of  a  vacuum.  However,  thanks  to  a  clean  keel  and 
fair  winds,  they  made  a  smashing  passage  and  their 
sufferings  were  not  unduly  prolonged. 

Immediately  on  his  arrival  at  Antofagasta  the  young 
skipper  reported  by  cable  to  his  owners,  thereby  eliciting 
the  following  reply  from  Cappy  Ricks: 

"You  stole  ship.     If  you  value  your  ticket  bring  her 
back  with  cargo  agent  provides." 

Naturally  this  somewhat  cryptic  cablegram  roused 
Matt  Peasley's  curiosity.  He  could  not  rest  until  he  had 
interviewed  the  agent  —  and  after  that  sop  to  his  inquisi- 
tivcness  he  returned  to  the  Retriever  a  broken  man.  The 
loyal  and  disgusted  Murphy  read  the  trouble  in  the 
master's  face. 

"What  new  deviltry's  afoot  now,  Matt?"  he  demanded, 
in  his  eagerness  and  sympathy  forgetting  the  respect  due 
his  superior. 

"Green    hides,    Mike!"    the    skipper    answered,    in   his 

1x6 


THE  WAR  IS  RENEWED  117 

Distress  failing  to  notice  the  mate's  faux  pas  and  making 
one  himself.  "Green  hides,  old  pal;  and  they  stink 
something  horrible.  Back  to  Seattle  with  the  dirty  mess, 
and  then  another  cargo  of  creosoted " 

"King's  X !"  yelled  Mr.  Murphy.  "I  crossed  my  fingers 
the  minute  your  face  appeared  over  the  rail.  I  quit — and 
I  quit  as  soon  as  this  piling  is  out.  I  tell  you  I  won't  < 
keep  company  with  green  hides.  No,  sir ;  I  won't.  I  tell 
you  I  will — not — do  it!  Why,  we  might  as  well  have  a 
dead  hog  in  the  hold !  Captain  Matt,  I  hate  to  throw  you 
down  in  a  foreign  port;  but  this — is  absolutely — the 
finish!" 

"Do  you  value  your  ticket,  Mike?"  the  captain  queried 
ominously. 

"What's  a  ticket  when  a  man's  lost  his  self-respect?" 
Mr.  Murphy  raved. 

Matt  handed  him  Cappy's  cablegram  and  the  mate 
read  it. 

"I  think  that  bet  goes  double,  Mike,"  the  skipper 
warned  him.  "You  signed  for  the  round  trip.  I've  got 
to  go  through — and  there's  strength  in  numbers." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Murphy  reluctantly,  "I  suppose  I  do 
attach  a  certain — er — sentimental  value  to  my  ticket." 

"I  thought  you  would.  Cappy's  got  us  by  the  short 
hair,  Mike ;  and  the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  fly  to  it,  with  all 
sails  set.  We  must  never  let  on  he's  given  us  anything  out 
of  the  ordinary." 

Mr.  Murphy  shivered;  for,  as  Cappy  had  remarked  to 
Mr.  Skinner,  the  mate  was  Irish,  hence  imaginative.  He 
imagined  he  smcllcd  the  green  hides  already,  and  quite 
suddenly  he  gagged  and  sprang  for  the  rail.  Poor  fellow ! 
He  had  stood  much  of  late  and  his  stomach  was  a 
.trifle  sensitive  from  a  diet  of  creosote  straight. 


n8  CAPPY    RICKS 

Somehow  they  got  the  awful  cargo  aboard,  though,  at 
that,  there  were  not  sufficient  hides  to  half  load  her;  in 
consequence  of  which  all  hands  realized  that  Gappy  had 
merely  given  them  this  dab  of  freight  to  sicken  them. 
They  cursed  him  all  the  way  back  to  Seattle,  where  the 
crew  quit  the  minute  the  vessel  was  made  fast  to  the 
dock. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

CAPPY    SEEKS    PEACE 

a  telegram  for  you,  sir,"  Mr.  Murphy  remarked 
when  Matt  Peasley  came  aboard  after  cashing  a  draft  on 
the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  to  pay  off  his  crew. 
It  proved  to  be  from  Cappy  Ricks  and  said  merely : 

"Discharge  that  cargo  of  hides  or  take  the  conse 
quences  !" 

"The  old  sinner  thought  I'd  dog  it,  I  suppose,"  Matt 
sneered,  as  he  passed  the  message  to  Mr.  Murphy,  who 
shivered  as  he  read  it.  "I  guess  you're  elected,  Mike," 
the  skipper  continued.  "The  second  mate  has  quit. 
However,  it  isn't  going  to  be  very  hard  on  you  this  time.  I 
was  speaking  to  the  skipper  of  that  schooner  in  the  berth 
ahead  of  us,  and  he  gave  me  a  recipe  for  killing  the 
perfume  of  a  cargo  of  green  hides." 

"If  he'd  given  it  to  us  in  Antofagasta,  I'd  name  a  ship 
after  him  some  day,"  Mr.  Murphy  mourned. 

"Well,  we've  gotten  it  in  time  to  be  of  some  use,"  Matt 
declared.  "You  don't  suppose  I'm  going  to  let  this  old 
snoozer  Ricks  get  away  with  the  notion  that  he  put  one 
over  on  us,  do  you?  Shall  we  haul  Old  Glory  down !  No ! 
Never!  I'll  just  switch  off  the  laughing  gas  on  Cappy 
Ricks,"  and  the  young  skipper  went  ashore  and  wired  his 
managing  owner  as  follows  : 

"Green  hides  are  the  essence  of  horror  if  you  do  not 
119 


120  CAPPY    RICKS 

know  how  to  handle  them.  Fortunately  I  do.  Pour 
water  on  a  green  hide  and  you  muzzle  the  stink.  I 
judge  from  your  last  telegram  you  thought  you 
handed  me  something." 

When  Cappy  Ricks  got  that  telegram  he  flew  into  a 
rage  and  refused  to  believe  Matt  Peasley's  statement  until 
he  had  first  called  up  a  dealer  in  hides  and  confirmed  it. 
The  entire  office  staff  wondered  all  that  day  what  made 
Cappy  so  savage. 

By  the  following  day,  however,  Cappy  Js  naturally 
optimistic  nature  had  reasserted  itself.  He  admitted  to 
himself  that  he  had  fanned  out,  but  still  the  knowledge 
brought  him  some  comfort. 

"He's  walloped  me  so,"  Cappy  soliloquized,  "he  just 
can't  help  writing  and  crowing  about  it.  If  I  didn't  d* 
anything  else  I  bet  I've  pried  a  letter  out  of  him.  It 
certainly  will  be  a  comfort  to  see  something  except  a 
telegram  and  a  statement  of  account  from  that  fellow." 

However,  when  the  report  of  the  voyage  arrived,  Mrv 
Skinner  reported  that  it  contained  no  letter.  Cappy's 
face  reflected  his  disappointment. 

"I  guess  you'll  have  to  go  stronger  than  green  hides 
to  get  a  yelp  out  of  that  fellow,"  Mr.  Skinner  predicted, 

"Why,  there  isn't  anything  stronger  than  a  cargo  of 
green  hides,  Skinner,"  Cappy  declared  thoughtfully.  He 
clawed  his  whiskers  a  moment.  Then:  "What  have  you 
got  for  her  on  the  Sound,  Skinner?" 

"Nothing  nasty,  sir.  We'll  have  to  give  him  a  regular 
cargo  this  time — that  is,  unless  he  quits.  I've  got  a  cargo 
for  Sydney,  ready  at  our  own  mill  at  Port  Hadlock." 

"Well,  he  hasn't  resigned  yet,"  Cappy  declared;  "so 
we  might  as  well  beat  him  to  it.  Wire  him,  Skinner,  to 


GAPPY  SEEKS  PEACE  12 1] 

tow  to  our  mill  at  Port  Hadlock  and  load  for  Sydney.  If 
he  believes  we're  willing  to  call  this  thing  a  dead  heat  he 
may  conclude  to  stick.  Tell  him  this  is  a  nice  cargo." 
Again  Gappy  clawed  his  whiskers.  "Sydney,  eh?"  he  said 
musingly.  "That's  nice!  We  can  send  him  over  to 
Newcastle  from  there  to  pick  up  a  cargo  of  coal,  and 
maybe  he'll  come  home  afire  !  If  we  can't  hand  him  a  stink, 
Skinner,  we'll  put  a  few  gray  hairs  in  his  head." 

These  instructions  Mr.  Skinner  grudgingly  complied 
with;  and  Matt  Peasley,  with  his  hatches  wide  open  and 
buckets  of  punk  burning  in  the  hold  to  dispel  the  linger 
ing  fragrance  of  his  recent  cargo — concluding  that,  on 
the  whole,  he  and  Mr.  Murphy  had  come  through  the 
entire  affair  very  handsomely  indeed — towed  down  to 
Hadlock  and  commenced  to  take  on  cargo.  If  Gappy 
Ricks  was  willing  to  declare  a  truce  then  Matt  Peasley 
would  declare  one  too. 

Matt's  peaceful  acquiescence  in  his  owner's  program, 
merely  served  to  arouse  Gappy  Ricks'  abnormal  curiosity. 
The  more  he  thought  of  Matt  Peasley  the  greater  grew 
his  desire  for  a  closer  scrutiny.  The  most  amazing  man 
in  the  world  had  been  in  his  employ  a  year  and  a  half,  and 
as  yet  they  had  never  met ;  unless  the  Retriever  should 
happen  to  be  loaded  for  San  Francisco  years  might  elapse 
before  they  should  see  each  other;  and  now  that  he  had 
'attained  to  his  allotted  three  score  years  and  ten  Gappy 
decided  that  he  could  no  longer  gamble  on  the  future. 

He  summoned  Mr.  Skinner. 

"Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he  announced  with  the  naive 
simplicity  that  made  him  so  lovable.  "I  suppose  it's  very 
childish  of  me,  but  I  have  a  tremendous  desire  to  see  this 
extraordinary  fellow  Peasley." 

"You  can  afford  to  satisfy  jour  slightest  whim,  Mr, 


122  CAPPY    RICKS 

Ricks,"  he  replied.  "I'll  load  her  for  San  Francisco  after 
she  returns  from  Australia.  I  daresay  if  he  ever  gets 
through  the  Golden  Gate  he'll  call  up  at  the  office." 

"Skinner,  I  can't  wait  that  long.  Many  things  may 
happen.  Ahem !  Harump-h-h-h !  Wire  the  man  Peasley., 
Skinner,  to  have  his  photograph  taken  and  forwarded  tc 
me  immediately  charging  expense." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  Mr.  Skinner  responded. 

"Well,  I'll  be  keel-hauled  and  skull-dragged,"  Matt 
Pcasley  declared  to  Mr.  Murphy.  "Here's  a  telegram 
from  the  owners  demanding  my  photograph." 

Mr.  Murphy  read  the  amazing  message,  scratched  his 
raven  poll,  and  declared  his  entire  willingness  to  be 
damned. 

"It's  a  trap,"  he  announced  presently.  "Don't  send  it. 
Matt,  you  look  about  twenty  years  old  and  for  the  next 
few  years,  if  you  expect  to  work  under  the  Blue  Star  flag, 
you  must  remember  your  face  isn't  your  fortune.  You've 
got  to  be  pickled  in  salt  for  twenty  years  to  please  Cappy 
Ricks.  If  he  sees  your  photograph  he'll  fire  you,  Matt. 
I  know  that  old  crocodile.  All  he  wants  is  an  excuse  to 
give  you  the  foot,  anyhow." 

"But  he's  ordered  me  to  send  it,  Mike.  How  am  I 
going  to  get  out  of  it?" 

As  has  been  stated  earlier  in  this  tale,  Mr.  Murphy  had 
an  imagination. 

"Go  over  into  the  town,  sir,"  he  said,  "and  in  any  photo 
graph  gallery  you  can  pick  up  a  picture  of  some  old  man. 
Write  your  name  across  it  and  send  it  to  Cappy.  He'll 
be  just  as  happy,  then,  as  though  he  had  good  sense." 

"By  George,  I'll  just  do  that!"  Matt  declared,  and 
forthwith  went  ashore. 

He  sought  the  only  photographer  in  Port  Hadlock. 


CAPPY  SEEKS  PEACE  123 

At  the  entrance  to  the  shop  he  found  a  glass  case  contain 
ing  samples  of  the  man's  art,  and  was  singularly  attracted 
to  the  photograph  of  a  spruce  little  old  gentleman  in  a 
Henry  Clay  collar,  long  mutton-chop  whiskers,  and 
spectacles. 

Moreover,  to  Matt's  practiced  eye,  this  individual 
jeemed  to  savor  of  a  Down-Easter.  He  was  just  the  sort 
of  man  one  might  expect  to  bear  the  name  of  Matthew 
Peasley;  so  the  captain  mounted  the  stairs  and  sought 
the  proprietor,  from  whom  he  purchased  the  picture  in 
question  for  the  trifling  sum  of  fifty  cents.  Then  he  bore 
it  away  to  the  Retriever,  scrawled  his  autograph  across 
the  old  gentleman's  hip  and  mailed  the  picture  to  Gappy 
Ricks. 


CHAPTER    XX 

PEACE    AT    LAST! 

ME.  SKINXER  entered  Cappy  Ricks'  office  bearing  an 
envelope  marked  "Photo.  Do  not  crush  or  bend !"  From 
the  announcement  in  the  upper  right-hand  corner  tl>e 
general  manager  deduced  that  the  photograph  was  from 
Matt  Peasley. 

"Well,  here's  Captain  Peasley's  picture,  Mr.  Ricks," 
he  announced. 

"Ah!  Splendid.  Prompt,  isn't  he?"  Cappy  tore  open 
the  envelope,  drew  forth  the  photograph,  scrutinized  it 
carefully  and  then  laid  it  face  down  on  his  desk,  while  he 
got  out  his  spectacles,  cleaned  them  carefully,  adjusted 
them  and  gazed  at  the  photograph  once  more. 

"Ahem !  Hu-m-m-m !  Harump-h-h-h !  Well,  Skinner, 
life  is  certainly  full  of  glad  surprises,"  he  announced 
presently,  and  added — "particularly  where  that  man 
Peasley  is  concerned.  I  never  did  see  the  beat  of  that 
fellow." 

"May  I  see  his  photograph,  sir?"  Mr.  Skinner  pleaded. 

"Certainly,"  and  Cappy  passed  it  to  the  general  mana 
ger,  who  glanced  once  at  it  and  smiled  down  whimsically 
at  Cappy. 

"Yes,  I  agree  with  you,  Mr.  Richs,"  he  said.  "Of  all 
the  surprises  that  man  Peasley  has  handed  us,  this  is  the 
greatest." 

Cappy    nodded    and    smiled    a    little   prescient    smile. 

124 


PEACE  AT  LAST! 

"Skinner,"  he  said,  "send  in  a  stenographer.  I'm  going 
to  send  him  a  telegram." 

He  did.  Matt  Peasley  blinked  when  he  got  it,  and  for 
the  first  time  since  he  had  commenced  exchanging 
telegrams  and  cablegrams  with  the  peculiar  Mr.  Ricks  he 
was  thoroughly  non-plussed — so  much  so,  in  fact,  that  he 
called  his  right  bower,  Michael  J.  Murphy,  into  consul 
tation. 

"Mike,"  he  said,  and  handed  the  mate  the  telegram, 
"what  in  the  world  do  you  suppose  the  old  duffer  means 
by  that?" 

Mr.  Murphy  read: 

"Matt,  I  always  knew  you  were  young,  but  I  had  no 
suspicion  you  were  a  child  in  arms  until  I  received 
your  photograph." 

"Serves  you  right,"  the  mate  declared.  "I  told  you  to 
send  the  photo  of  an  old  man." 

"But  I  did,  Mike.  I  sent  him  a  picture  of  an  old  pappy- 
guy  sort  of  man,  with  long,  mutton-chop  whiskers,  glasses 
and  an  old-fashioned  collar  as  tall  as  the  taffrail." 

"It  beats  my  time  then  what  he's  driving  at,  Captain 
Matt.  But  then  one  can  never  tell  what  Cappy  Ricks  is 
up  to.  I've  heard  he's  a  great  hand  to  have  his  little 
joke,  so  I  daresay  that  telegram  is  meant  for  sarcasm." 

Matt  had  a  horrifying  inspiration.  "I  know  what's 
wrong,"  he  cried  bitterly.  "He  thinks  I'm  so  old  I  ought 
to  be  retired,  and  that  telegram  is  in  the  nature  of  a  hint 
that  a  letter,  asking  for  my  resignation,  is  on  the  way 
now." 

"Why — why — why?"  Mr.  Murphy  stuttered,  "did  you 
send  him  the  picture  of  Methusaleh  himself?  Heaven's 


126  GAPPY    RICKS 

sake,  skipper,  there's  a  happy  medium,  you  know.  I  meant 
for  you  to  pick  yourself  out  a  man  of  about  fifty-five,  and 
here  you've  slipped  him  a  patriarch  of  ninety.  Sarcasm ! 
I  should  say  so." 

They  stared  at  each  other  a  few  seconds;  then  Mr. 
Murphy  had  an  equally  disturbing  inspiration. 

"By  Neptune !"  he  suggested,  "maybe  you  sent  him  tht 
picture  of  somebody  he  knows !" 

"Well,  in  that  case,  Mike,  I'm  not  going  to  hang  on 
the  hook  of  suspicion.  Maybe  I  can  find  out  whose 
picture  I  sent,"  and  away  Matt  went  up  town  to  the  photo 
graph  gallery.  When  he  returned  ten  minutes  later  Mr. 
Murphy,  sighting  him  a  block  in  the  offing,  knew  the 
skipper  of  the  barkentine  Retriever  for  a  broken  man ! 
Bej-ond  doubt  he  had  shipped  a  full  cargo  of  grief. 

"Well?"  he  queried  as  Mfttt  hove  alongside.  "Did  y<>u 
find  out?" 

Matt  nodded  gloomily. 

"Who?"  Mr.  Murphy  demanded  peremptorily. 

"Cappy  Ricks !"  Matt  almost  wailed. 

"NO !"  Mr.  Murphy  roared. 

"Yes !  The  old  scoundrel  was  up  here  three  years  ago, 
visiting  this  mill — you  know,  Mike,  he  owns  it — and  the 
Retriever  was  here  loading  at  the  time.  He  and  Captain 
Kendall  were  close  friends,  and  they  went  over  to  that 
photograph  shop,  had  their  pictures  taken  and  swopped — 
and  like  a  poor,  helpless,  luckless  boob  I  had  to  com< 
along  and  buy  the  sample  picture  the  photographer  hung 
in  his  case.  It  never  occurred  to  me  to  ask  questions — and 
I  might  have  known  nobody  but  a  prominent  citizen  ever 
gets  into  a  show-case " 

"Glory,  glory,  hallelujah,"  Mr.  Murphy  crooned  in 
deep,  chain-locker  voice,  and  fled  from  the  skipper's  wrath. 


PEACE  AT  LAST!  127 

An  hour  later,  in  the  privacy  of  his  cabin,  Matt  Peas- 
ley  took  his  pen  in  hand  and  wrote  to  Gappy  Ricks : 

Mr.  Alden  P.  Ricks, 

Dear  Sir: — 

I  herewith  tender  my  resignation  as  master  of 
the  barkentine  Retriever,  same  to  take  effect  on  my 
return  from  Sydney — or  before  I  sail,  if  you  desire. 
If  I  do  not  hear  from  you  before  I  sail  I  shall  assume 
that  it  will  be  all  right  to  quit  when  I  get  back  from 
Australia. 

I  will  not  be  twenty-three  years  old  until  the 
Fourth  of  July.  I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't  trust  me 
with  a  big  ship  like  the  Retriever  if  you  knew;  so  I 
sent  you  a  photograph  I  purchased  for  fifty  cents 
from  the  local  photographer.  I  guess  that's  all — 
except  that  you  couldn't  find  a  better  man  to  take  my 
place  than  Mr.  Murphy.  He  has  had  the  experience. 

Yours  truly,  ,,  . 

Matt  Peasley. 

There  were  tears  in  his  eyes  as  he  dropped  that  letter 
into  the  mail  box.  The  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company 
owned  the  Retriever,  but — but — well  she  was  Matt  Peas- 
ley's  ship  and  he  loved  her  as  men  learn  to  love  their 
homes.  It  broke  his  heart  to  think  of  giving  her  up. 

"Skinner,"  said  Gappy  Ricks,  "I've  got  a  letter  from 
the  man  Peasley  at  last;  and  now,  by  golly,  I  can  quit 
and  take  a  vacation.  Send  in  a  stenographer."  The 
stenographer  entered.  "Take  telegram — direct  message,'* 
he  ordered,  and  commenced  to  dictate: 

Captain  Matthew  Peasley, 

Your  resignation  accepted.   You  are  too  almighty 


128  GAPPY   RICKS 

good  for  a  windjammer,  Matthew.  You  need  mor* 
room  for  the  development  of  your  talent.  Give 
Murphy  the  ship,  with  my  compliments,  and  tell  him 
I've  enjoyed  the  fight  because  it  went  to  a  knock-out. 
Report  to  me  at  this  office  as  soon  as  possible.  You 
belong  in  steam.  A  second  mate's  berth  waiting  for 
you.  In  a  year  you  will  be  first  mate  of  steam;  a 
year  later  you  will  be  master  of  steam,  at  two-fifty  a 
month,  and  I  will  have  a  four-million-foot  freighter 
waiting  for  you  if  you  make  good.  The  picture  was 
a  bully  joke;  but  I  could  not  laugh,  Matt.  It  is  so 
long  since  I  was  a  boy. 

Cappy. 

"Send  that  right  away,  like  a  good  girl,"  he  ordered. 
"He's  about  loaded  and  he  may  have  towed  out  before  the 
telegram  reaches  him.  Or,  better  still,  send  the  message 
in  duplicate — one  copy  to  the  mill  and  the  other  in  care 
of  the  custom-house  at  Port  Townsend.  He'll  have  to 
touch  in  there  to  clear  the  ship." 

He  walked  into  Mr.  Skinner's  office. 

"Skinner,"  he  said,  "Murphy  has  the  Retriever,  and 
you're  in  charge  of  the  shipping.  Attend  to  the  transfer 
of  authoritj  before  she  gets  out  of  the  S^und.** 


CHAPTER   XXI 

MATT    PEASIoEY    MEETS    A    TALKATIVE    STRANGER 

GAPPY  RICKS'  telegram  to  Matt,  in  care  of  the  mill  at 
Fort  Hadlock,  arrived  several  hours  after  the  Retriever, 
fully  loaded  with  fir  lumber,  had  been  snatched  away  from 
the  mill  dock  by  a  tug  and  started  on  her  long  tow  to  Dun- 
geness,  where  the  hawser  would  be  cast  off.  It  was  not 
until  the  vessel  came  to  a  brief  anchorage  in  the  strait  off 
Port  Townsend,  the  port  of  entry  to  Puget  Sound,  and 
Matt  went  ashore  to  clear  his  ship,  that  the  duplicate  tele 
gram  sent  in  care  of  the  Collector  of  the  Port,  was  handed 
to  him.  . 

He  read  and  reread  it.  The  news  it  contained  seemed 
loo  good  to  be  true. 

"I  guess  I  won't  clear  her  after  all,"  he  announced  to 
the  deputy  collector. 

The  official  nodded.  "I  didn't  think  you  would,"  he 
replied.  "I  have  a  telegram  from  the  custom-house  at 
San  Francisco,  apprising  me  that  Michael  J.  Murphy  has 
been  appointed  master  of  the  Retriever,  so  if  she's  to  bfc 
cleared  Captain  Murphy  will  have  to  do  the  job." 

"He's  my  mate,  and  if  you'll  wait  about  half  an  hour 
['11  go  get  the  old  Siwash,"  Matt  replied  happily,  and 
started  back  to  the  Retriever  in  a  hurry.  He  had  been 
gone  less  than  twenty  minutes,  a  fact  noted  by  the  astute 
Murphy,  who  met  his  superior  at  the  rail  as  the  latter 
climbed  up  the  Jacob's  ladder. 


i3o  CAPPY    RICKS 

""Why,  you  haven't  cleared  the  old  girl  so  soon,  have 
you,  sir?"  he  queried. 

"Read  that,"  Matt  announced  dramatically. 

Mr.  Murphy  read  the  telegram.  "Bust  my  bob-stay !" 
he  murmured.  "The  dirty  old  assassin!  The  slimy  old 
pile-worm !  The  blessed  old  duffer !  After  treating  us 
like  dogs  for  a  year  and  a  half  he  gives  me  the  ship,  sets 
you  down  for  a  two  year  apprenticeship  in  steam  and 
says  he's  going  to  build  you  a  four-million-foot  freighter ! 
The  scoundrelly  old  renegade !  Why,  say,  Matt,  Cappy's 
been  spilling  the  acid  all  over  us  and  we  never  knew  it. 
Somehow,  I  have  a  notion  that  if  we  had  yelled  murder 
when  he  was  beating  us  he'd  have  had  us  both  out  of  his 
employ  while  you'd  be  saying  Jack  Robinson." 

"I  believe  you,  Mike.  But  he  needn't  think  he's  going 
to  grab  two  years  of  my  precious  young  life  before  he'll 
trust  me  with  a  steamer.  I  have  an  unlimited  license  for 
sail,  and  if  I  can  pass  the  examination  for  steam  before 
the  inspectors — and  I  can — I'll  get,  my  license  immed 
iately.  Just  consider  the  old  boy's  inconsistency,  Mike. 
If  a  man  can  handle  a  square-rigged  ship  he  ought  to  be 
trusted  with  anything;  yet,  when  he  gives  me  a  steamer 
you'd  think  he  was  giving  me  a  man's  job!  Fair  weather 
or  foul,  you  stand  on  the  bridge  and  control  your  vessel 
with  the  engine  room  telegraph.  Shucks!  I  wonder  if 
that  crochet y  old  joker  thinks  it  will  take  me  two  years 
to  learn  how  to  dock  a  steam  schooner?" 

Mr.  Murphy  hitched  his  trousers,  stuck  his  thumbs  in 
his  belt  and  glared  at  Matt  Peasley.  "See  here,  you,'* 
he  declared,  "you're  a  child  wonder,  all  right,  but  the 
trouble  with  you  is,  you  hate  yourself  too  much.  Listen 
to  me,  kid.  I'm  the  skipper  of  the  Retriever  now  and 
you're  my  friend,  young  Matt  Peasley,  so  I  can  talk  to 


PEASLEY  MEETS  A  STRANGER        131 

you  as  a  friend.  You're  a  pretty  skookum  youth  and  I'd 
hate  like  everything  to  mix  it  with  you,  but  if  you  start 
to  veto  the  old  man's  orders  you  may  look  for  a  fine 
thrashing  from  me  when  I  get  back  from  Australia !  I 
won't  have  you  making  a  damned  fool  of  yourself,  Matt. 
If  you  are  in  command  of  a  four-million-foot  freighter 
by  the  time  you're  twenty-seven,  you'll  be  the  youngest 
skipper  of  steam  afloat,  and  you  ought  to  be  down  on 
your  marrow  bones  giving  thanks  to  the  good  Lord  who 
has  done  so  much  for  you,  instead  of  planning  insurrection 
against  Cappy  Ricks.  The  idea  !" 

"But  what  sense  is  there  in  waiting " 

"When  I  refereed  the  scrap  between  you  and  All  Hands 
And  Feet  you  took  my  advice,  didn't  you?  You  didn't 
say  to  me  then:  'What  sense  is  there  in  waiting.  Let 
ine  go  in  and  finish  the  job  and  have  done  with  it,'  did 
you?" 

"But  this  is  business,  Mike.  For  a  year  and  a  half 
Cappy  has  been  having  a  whole  lot  of  fun  out  of  me " 

"It  might  have  been  fun  for  him,  but  it  came  pretty 
near  being  the  death  of  me,"  Mr.  Murphy  contradicted. 
"If  that  jag  of  green  hides  from  Antofagasta  was  a  joke, 
beware  of  Cappy  Ricks  when  he's  serious.  He's  serious 
about  you,  Matt.  He's  picked  on  you  sight  unseen,  and 
he's  going  to  do  something  for  you.  He's  an  old  man, 
Matt.  Let  him  have  his  way  and  you'll  profit  by  it." 

"Well,  I'll  see  what  he  has  to  say,  at  any  rate,"  Matt 
compromised,  and  they  went  below,  Matt  to  pack  his  sea 
chest  and  Mr.  Murphy  to  shave  and  array  himself  in  a 
manner  befitting  the  master  of  a  big  barkentine  about  to 
present  himself  at  the  custom-house  for  the  first  time  to 
clear  his  ship. 

An  hour  later  Matt  Peasley  found  himself  sitting  on  hia 


132  GAPPY    RICKS 

sea  chest  on  the  cap  of  the  wharf,  watching  the  Retriever 
slipping  down  the  strait  under  command  of  Captain  Mich 
ael  J.  Murphy,  while  a  new  chief  mate,  shipped  in  Port 
Townscnd,  counted  off  the  watches.  Presently  she  turned 
a  bend  and  was  gone ;  and  immediately  he  felt  like  a  home 
less  wanderer.  The  thought  of  the  doughty  Murphy  in 
that  snug  little  cabin  so  long  sacred  to  Matt  Peasley 
brought  a  pang  of  near  jealousy  to  the  late  commander 
of  the  Retriever;  as  he  reflected  on  the  two  years  of  toil 
ahead  of  him  before  men  would  again  address  him  as  Cap 
tain  Peasley,  he  wondered  whether  the  game  really  would 
be  worth  the  candle ;  for  he  had  all  of  a  Down-Easter's 
love  for  a  sailing  ship. 

He  recalled  to  mind  Mr.  Murphy's  favorite  story  of 
the  old  sailing  skipper  who  went  into  steam  and  who, 
during  his  very  first  watch  on  the  steamship's  bridge, 
ordered  the  man  at  the  wheel  to  starboard  his  helm,  and 
then  forgot  to  tell  him  to  steady  it — the  consequence  being 
that  the  helmsman  held  hard-a-starboard  and  the  ship 
commenced  to  describe  a  circle ;  whereupon  the  old  sailing 
skipper  got  excited  and  screamed:  "Back  that  main 
yard!"  Matt  felt  that  should  anything  like  that  happen 
to  him  in  steam  and  the  news  should  ever  leak  out, 
ho  would  have  to  go  back  to  the  Atlantic  Coast  rather 
than  face  the  gibes  of  his  shipmates  on  the  Pacific. 

The  passenger  boat  from  Victoria  picked  him  up  and 
set  him  down  in  Seattle  that  night,  and  the  following  morn 
ing  he  boarded  a  train  for  San  Francisco  to  report  to 
Cappy  Ricks. 

At  luncheon  in  the  dining  car  that  day  Matt  Peasley 
found  himself  seated  opposite  a  man  who  had  boarded  the 
train  with  him  at  Seattle.  As  the  young  captain  plied  his 
knife  and  fork  he  was  aware  that  this  person's  gaze  rested 


PEASLEY  MEETS  A  STRANGER        133 

with  something  more  than  casual  interest  on  his — Matt's 
— left  forearm;  whereupon  the  latter  realized  that  his 
•vis-a-vis  yearned  to  see  more  of  a  little  decoration  which, 
in  the  pride  of  his  first  voyage,  Matt  had  seen  fit  to  have 
tattooed  on  the  aforesaid  forearm  by  the  negro  cook.  So, 
since  he  was  the  best-natured  young  man  imaginable,  Matt 
decided  presently  to  satiate  his  neighbor's  curiosity. 

"It's  a  lady  climbing  a  ladder,"  he  announced 
composedly  and  drew  back  his  sleeve  to  reveal  this  sample 
of  black  art.  "I  have  a  shield  and  an  eagle  on  my  breast 
and  a  bleeding  heart,  with  a  dagger  stuck  through  it,  on 
my  right  forearm." 

"I  didn't  mean  to  be  rude,"  the  other  answered,  flush 
ing  a  little.  "I  couldn't  help  noticing  the  chorus  lady's 
shapely  calves  when  you  speared  that  last  pickle;  so  I 
knew  you  were  a  sailor.  I  concluded  you  were  an  Ameri 
can  sailor  before  I  learned  that  you  advertise  the  fact  on 
your  breast,  and  I  was  wondering  whether  you  belong  in 
the  navy  or  the  merchant  marine." 

"I'm  from  blue  water,"  Matt  replied  pleasantly. 
"You're  in  the  shipping  business,  I  take  it." 

"Almost — I'm  a  ship,  freight  and  marine  insurance 
broker."  And  the  stranger  handed  over  a  calling  card 
bearing  the  name  of  Mr.  Allan  Hayes.  "I'm  from  Seattle." 

"Peasley  is  my  name,  Mr.  Hayes,"  Matt  answered 
heartily,  glad  of  this  chance  acquaintance  with  a  man 
with  whom  he  could  converse  on  a  subject  of  mutual 
interest.  "I  haven't  any  post-office  address,"  he  added 
whimsically. 

"Going  over  to  Columbia  River  to  join  your  ship,  I 
daresay,"  Mr.  Hayes  suggested. 

"No,  sir.  I'm  bound  for  San  Francisco,  to  get  a  jo!> 
in  steam  and  work  up  to  a  captaincy." 


J34  GAPPY    RICKS 

"Wherein  you  show  commendable  wisdom,  Mr.  Peasley," 
the  broker  answered.  "A  man  can  get  so  far  in  a  wind 
jammer — a  hundred  a  month  in  the  little  coasting  schoon 
ers  and  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  in  the  big  vessels 
running  foreign — and  there  he  sticks.  In  steam  schooners 
a  good  man  can  command  two  hundred  dollars  a  month, 
with  a  chance  for  promotion  into  a  big  freighter,  for  the 
reason  that  in  steam  one  has  more  opportunity  to  show 
the  stuff  that's  in  one." 

"How  far  are  you  going?"  Matt  demanded. 

"I'm  bound  for  San  Francisco  too." 

"Good!"  Matt  replied,  for,  like  most  boys,  he  was  a 
gregarious  animal,  and  Mr.  Hayes  seemed  to  be  a  pleas 
ant,  affable  gentleman.  "I  suppose  you  know  most  of  the 
steam  vessels  on  this  coast?"  he  continued,  anxious  te 
turn  the  conversation  into  channels  that  might  be  produc 
tive  of  information  valuable  to  him  in  his  new  line  of 
endeavor. 

Mr.  Hayes  nodded.  "I  have  to,"  he  said,  "if  I'm  to  do 
any  business  negotiating  charters ;  in  fact,  I'm  bound  to 
San  Francisco  now  to  charter  two  steamers." 

"Freight  or  passenger?" 

"Freight.  There's  nothing  for  a  broker  in  a  passenger 
vessel.  I'm  scouting  for  two  boats  for  the  Mannheim 
people.  You've  heard  of  them,  of  course.  They  own 
tremendous  copper  mines  in  Alaska,  but  they  can't  seem  to 
get  the  right  kind  of  flux  to  smelt  their  ore  up  there; 
so  they're  going  to  freight  it  down  to  their  smelter  in 
Tacoma." 

"I  see.  But  how  do  you  work  the  game  to  pay  your 
office  rent?" 

"Why,  that's  very  simple,  Mr.  Peasley.  Their  traffic 
manager  merely  calls  me  up  and  tells  me  to  find  two  ore 


PEASLEY  MEETS  A  STRANGER        135 

freighters  for  him.  He  doesn't  know  where  to  look  for 
them,  but  he  knows  I  do,  and  that  it  will  not  cost  him  any 
thing  to  engage  me  to  find  them  for  him.  Well,  I  locate 
the  vessels  and  when  I  come  to  terms  with  the  owners,  and 
those  terms  are  satisfactory  to  my  clients,  I  close  the  char 
ter  and  the  vessel  owners  pay  me  a  commission  of  two 
and  a  half  per  cent,  on  all  the  freight  money  earned  under  / 
the  charter.  A  shipowner  generally  is  glad  to  pay  a 
broker  a  commission  for  digging  him  up  business  for 
Bis  ships — particularly  when  freights  are  dull." 

Matt  Peaj:ley  nodded  his  comprehension  and  did  some 
quick  mental  arithmetic. 

"Why,  you'll  make  a  nice  little  fee  on  those  ore  boats," 
he  said.  "I  suppose  it's  a  time  charter." 

"Four  years,"  Mr.  Hayes  replied,  and  smiled  fatly  at 
the  thought  of  his  income.  "Of  course  I'd  make  a  larger 
commission  if  the  freight  rate  was  figured  on  a  tonnage 
basis  ;  but  on  long  charters,  like  these  I  mention,  the  ships 
are  rented  at  a  flat  rate  a  day  or  month.  Say,  for 
instance,  I  negotiate  these  charters  at  the  rate  of  four 
hundred  dollars  a  day,  or  eight  hundred  dollars  a  day  for 
the  two  boats.  Two  and  a  half  per  cent,  of  eight 
hundred  dollars  is  twenty  dollars  a  day,  which  I  will  earn 
as  commission  every  day  for  the  next  four  years  that  the 
vessels  are  not  in  dry  dock  or  laid  up  for  repairs." 

"And  you  probably  will  earn  that  by  one  day  of  labor," 
Matt  Peasley  murmured  admiringly — "perhaps  one  hour 
of  actual  labor !" 

Mr.  Hayes  smiled  again  his  fat  smile.     He  shrugged. 

"That's  business,"  he  said  carelessly.  "An  ounce  of 
promotion  is  worth  a  ton  of  horse  power." 

"Well,  I  should  say  so,  Mr.  Hayes!  But  you'll  have 
quite  a  search  to  find  an  ore  boat  on  the  Pacific  Coast. 


136  CAPPY    RICKS 


(There  are  some  coal  boats  running  to  Coos  Bay,  but 
.they're  hardly  big  enough;  and  then  I  suppose  they're 
kept  pretty  busy  in  the  coal  trade,  aren't  they?  It  seems 
to  me  that  what  you  need  for  your  business  would  be  two 
of  those  big  steel  ore  vessels,  with  their  engines  astern — 
the  kind  they  use  on  the  Great  Lakes." 

"That  is  exactly  why  I  am  going  to  San  Francisco,  Mr. 
Peasley.  There  are  on  this  Coast  two  ships  such  as  you 
describe — sister  ships  and  just  what  the  doctor  ordered." 

"What  are  their  names  ?" 

"The  Lion  and  the  Unicorn." 

Matt  Peasley  paused,  with  a  forkful  of  provender 
halfway  to  his  mouth.  The  S.S.  Lion,  eh?  Why,  that  was 
one  of  Cappy  Ricks'  vessels !  He  remembered  passing 
her  off  Cape  Flattery  once  and  seeing  the  Blue  Star  house 
flag  fluttering  at  the  fore. 

"Were  they  Lake  boats  originally?"  he  queried. 

Mr.  Hayes  nodded. 

"What  are  they  doing  out  here?" 

"Right  after  the  San  Francisco  fire,  when  fir  lumber 
jumped  from  a  twelve-dollar  base  to  twenty-five,  lumber 
freights  soared  accordingly,"  Hayes  explained.  "Vessels 
that  had  been  making  a  little  money  at  four  dollars  a 
thousand  feet,  from  Oregon  and  Washington  ports  to  San 
Francisco,  were  enabled  to  get  ten  dollars ;  and  anything 
that  would  float  was  hauled  out  of  the  bone  yard  and  put 
I  to  work.  Old  Man  Ricks,  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company,  was  the  first  to  see  the  handwriting  on  the  wall ; 
so  he  sneaked  East  and  bought  the  Lion  and  the  Unicorn. 
It  was  just  the  old  cuss's  luck  to  have  a  lot  of  cash  on 
hand;  and  he  bought  them  cheap,  loaded  them  with  gen 
eral  cargo  in  New  York,  and  paid  a  nice  dividend  on  them 
on  their  very  first  voyage  under  the  Blue  Star  flag.  When 


PEASLEY  MEETS  A  STRANGER        137 

he  got  them  on  the  Coast  he  put  them  into  the  lumber 
trade  and  they  paid  for  themselves  within  a  year. 

"Then,  just  before  the  panic  of  1907,  old  Ricks  un 
loaded  the  Unicorn  on  the  Black  Butte  Company  for  ten 
thousand  dollars  more  than  he  paid  for  her — the  old 
scamp !  He's  the  shrewdest  trader  on  the  whole  Pacific 
Coast.  He  had  no  sooner  sawed  the  Unicorn  off  on  the 
Black  Butte  people  than  the  freight  market  collapsed  in 
the  general  crash,  and  ever  since  then  the  owners  of  the 
Lion  and  the  Unicorn  have  been  stuck  with  their  vessels. 
They're  so  big  it's  next  to  impossible  to  keep  them 
running  coastwise  in  the  lumber  trade  during  a  dull  period, 
and  they're  not  big  enough  for  the  foreign  trade.  About 
the  only  thing  they  could  do  profitably  was  to  freight  coal, 
coal  freights  have  dropped  until  the  margin  of  profit  is 
very  meager;  competition  is  keen  and  for  the  last  six 
months  the  Lion  and  the  Unicorn  have  been  laid  up." 

Matt  Peasley  smilod. 

"They'll  be  hungrj  for  the  business,"  he  said,  "and  I'm 
sailor  enough  to  see  you'll  be  able  to  drive  a  bargain  with 
out  much  trouble." 

"I  ought  to  gnt  them  pretty  cheap,"  Mr.  Hayes 
admitted.  "As  you  perhaps  know,  a  vessel  deteriorates 
faster  when  laid  up  than  she  does  in  active  service;  and 
an  owner  will  do  almost  anything  to  keep  her  at  sea, 
provided  he  can  make  a  modest  rate  of  interest  on  her  cost 
price  or  present  market  value." 

"Naturally,"  Matt  Peasley  observed  as  they  rose  from 
the  table. 

He  purchased  a  cigar  for  Mr.  Hayes,  and  as  they 
retired  to  the  buffet  car  to  continue  their  acquaintance 
something  whispered  to  Matt  not  to  divulge  to  this  some 
what  garrulous  stranger  the  news  that  he  was  a  sea 


138  CAPPY    RICKS 

captain  lately  in  the  employ  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company  and  soon  to  enter  that  employ  again.  He  had 
learned  enough  to  realize  that  Cappy's  bank  roll  was 
threatened  by  this  man  from  Seattle;  that  with  his 
defenses  leveled,  as  it  were,  the  old  gentleman  would  prove 
an  easy  victim  unless  warned  of  the  impending  attack. 

Therefore,  since  Matt  had  not  sought  Mr.  Hayes' 
confidence  nor  accepted  it  under  a  pledge  of  secrecy,  he 
decided  that  there  could  be  nothing  unethical  in  taking 
advantage  of  it.  Plainly  the  broker  had  jumped  to  the 
conclusion  that  Matt  was  a  common  sailor — above  the 
average  in  point  of  intelligence,  but  so  young  and 
unsophisticated  that  one  need  not  bother  to  be  reserved  or 
cautious  in  his  presence.  Some  vague  understanding  of 
this  had  come  to  Matt  Peasley ;  hence  throughout  the 
remainder  of  the  journey  his  conversations  with  the  broker 
bore  on  every  other  subject  under  heaven  except  ships  and 
shipowners. 


CHAPTER    XXH 

FACE    TO    FACE 

IN  his  private  office  Cappy  Ricks  sat  on  his  spine,  with 
his  old  legs  on  his  desk  and  his  head  sunk  forward  on  his 
breast.  His  eyes  were  closed;  to  the  casual  observer  he 
would  have  appeared  to  be  dozing.  Any  one  of  his 
employees,  however,  would  have  known  Cappy  was  merely 
thinking.  It  was  his  habit  to  close  his  eyes  and  sit  very 
still  whenever  he  faced  a  tussle  with  a  tough  proposition. 

Presently  an  unmistakably  feminine  kiss,  surreptitiously 
8eliyered,  roused  Cappy  from  his  meditations.  He  opened 
his  eyes  and  beheld  his  daughter  Florence,  a  radiant 
debutante  of  twenty,  and  the  sole  prop  of  her  eccentric 
parent's  declining  years. 

"Daddy  dear,"  she  announced,  "there's  something  wrong 
with  my  bank  account.  I've  just  come  from  the  Marine 
National  Bank  and  they  wouldn't  cash  my  check." 

"Of  course  not,"  Cappy  replied,  beaming  affectionately. 
"They  telephoned  about  five  minutes  ago  that  you're  into 
the  red  again;  so  I've  instructed  Skinner  to  deposit  fire 
thousand  to  your  credit." 

"Oh,  but  I  want  ten  thousand!"  she  protested. 

"Can't  have  it,  Florry !"  he  declared.  "The  old  limou 
sine  will  have  to  do.  Go  slow,  my  dear — go  slow!  Why. 
they're  offering  random  cargoes  freely  along  the  street  for 
nine  dollars.  Logs  cost  six  dollars,  with  a  dollar  and  a 
half  to  manufacture — that's  seven  and  a  half;  and  three 

139 


140  GAPPY    RICKS 

and  a  half  water  freight  added — that's  eleven  dollars. 
Eleven-dollar  lumber  selling  for  nine  dollars,  and  no  busi 
ness  at  that!  I  haven't  had  a  vessel  dividend  in  six 
months " 

Mr.  Skinner  entered. 

"Mr.  Ricks,"  he  announced,  "Captain  Prasley,  late  of 
the  Retriever,  is  in  the  outer  office.  Shall  I  tell  him  to 
wait?" 

"No.  Haven't  we  been  itching  to  see  each  other  the 
past  eighteen  months.  Show  him  in  immediately,  Skin 
ner."  Cappy  turned  to  his  daughter.  "I  want  to  show 
you  something  my  dear,"  he  said ;  "something  you're  not 
likely  to  meet  very  often  in  your  set — and  that's  a 
he-man.  Do  you  remember  hearing  me  tell  the  story  of  the 
mate  that  thrashed  the  big  Swede  skipper  I  sent  to  Cape 
Town  to  thrash  him  and  bring  the  vessel  home?" 

"Do  you  mean  the  captain  that  never  writes  letters?" 

"That's  the  man.  The  fellow  I've  been  having  so  much 
fun  with — the  Nervy  Matt  that  tried  to  hornswoggle  me 
with  my  own  photograph.  Passed  it  off  as  his  own,  Florry ! 
He  hails  from  rny  old  home  town,  and  he's  a  mere  boy — 
Come  in !" 

The  door  opened  to  admit  Matt  Peasley;  and  as  he 
paused  just  inside  the  entrance,  slightly  embarrassed  at 
finding  himself  under  the  cool  scrutiny  of  the  trimmest, 
most  dashing  little  craft  he  had  ever  seen,  Miss  Florry 
decided  that  her  father  was  right.  Here,  indeed,  was  a 
specimen  of  the  genus  Homo  she  had  not  hitherto  seen. 
Six  feet  three  he  was,  straight  from  shoulder  to  hip, 
broad-chested  and  singularly  well  formed  and  graceful  for 
such  a  big  man. 

He  wore  stout  shoes,  without  toe  caps — rather 
old-fashioned  footgear,  Florry  thought;  but  they  were 


FACE  TO  FACE  141 

polished  brightly.  A  tailor-made,  double-breasted  blue 
serge  suit,  close-hauled  and  demoded;  a  soft  white  silk 
shirt,  with  non-detachable  collar ;  a  plain  black  silk  four- 
in-hand  tie,  and  a  uniform  cap,  set  a  little  back  and  to  one 
side  on  thick,  black,  glossy,  wavy  hair,  completed  his 
attire.  He  had  his  right  hand  in  his  trousers  pocket ;  his 
left  was  on  the  doorknob.  He  glanced  from  her  to  her 
father. 

;  "He's  handsome,"  thought  Florry.  "What  a  beautiful 
tan  on  his  throat !  He  looks  anything  but  the  brute  he  is. 
But  he  hasn't  any  manners.  Oh,  dear !  He  stands  there 
like  a  graven  image." 

1  Matt  Peasley's  hand  came  out  of  his  pocket ;  off  came 
his  cap  and  he  bowed  slightly. 

"I  am  Captain  Peasley,"  he  said. 

Cappy  Ricks,  leaning  forward  on  the  edge  of  his  swivel 
chair,  with  head  slightly  bent,  made  a  long  appraisal  of 
the  young  man  over  the  rims  of  his  spectacles. 

"Ahem!"  he  said.  "Huh!  Harumph!"  Ensued 
another  terrible  silence.  Then:  "Young  scoundrel!" 
Cappy  cried.  "Infernal  young  scoundrel !" 

"I  accept  the  nomination,"  said  Matt  dryly.  "You'd 
never  know  me  from  my  photograph,  would  you,  sir?  I'd 
know  you  from  yours,  though — in  a  minute !" 

Miss  Florry  tittered  audibly,  thus  drawing  on  herself 
the  attention  of  the  skipper,  who  was  audacious  enough  to 
favor  her  with  a  solemn  wink. 

"None  of  your  jokes  with  me,  sir!"  said  Cappy 
•gevereiy. 

"That's  just  what  I  say,  sir;  none  of  your  jokes  on 
me !  Those  green  hides  were  absolutely  indecent." 

"Matt,  you're  a  fresh  young  fellow,"  Cappy  charged, 
struggling  to  suppress  a  smile. 


542  CAPPY    RICKS 

"And  I  was  raised  on  salt  water  too,"  Matt  added 
seriously. 

Cappy  laughed. 

"You're  a  Thomaston  Peasley,"  he  declared,  and  shook 
bands.  "Ever  hear  of  Ethan  Peasley  back  there?" 

"He  was  my  uncle,  sir.     He  was  drowned  at  sea." 

"He  was  a  boyhood  chum  of  mine,  Matt.  Permit  me 
to  present  my  daughter,  Miss  Florence." 

Miss  Florence  favored  the  captain  with  her  most 
bewitching  smile  and  nodded  perkily.  Matt  held  out  his 
great  hand,  not  realizing  that  a  bow  and  a  conventional 
"Delighted,  I'm  sure !"  was  the  correct  thing  in  Florry's 
set.  Florry  was  about  to  accept  his  great  paw  when 
Cappy  yelled : 

"Don't  take  it,  Florry!  He'll  squeeze  your  hand  to 
jelly." 

"I  won't,"  Matt  declared,  embarrassed.  "I  might  press 
it  a  little " 

"I  know.  You  pressed  mine  a  little,  and  if  I  live  to 
be  a  thousand  years  old  I'll  never  shake  hands  with  you 
again." 

"I'll  give  her  my  finger  then,"  Matt  declared,  and 
forthwith  held  out  his  index  finger,  which  Florry  shook 
gravely. 

"Well,  well,  boy ;  sit  down,  sit  down,"  Cappy  coro- 
mandcd  briskly,  "while  I  tell  you  the  plans  I  have  for 
your  future.  I  ought  to  have  fired  you  long  ago 

"I  shall  always  be  happy  to  testify  that  you  tried  hard 
enough,"  Matt  interrupted,  and  Florry's  silvery  laugh 
filled  the  room.  Cappy  winced,  but  had  to  join  with  her 
in  the  laugh  on  himself. 

"For  the  sake  of  your  Uncle  Ethan,  and  the  fact  that 
you're  one  of  our  own  boys,  Matt,"  he  continued,  "I'll 


FACE  TO  FACE  143 

retain  you  if  you  behave  yourself.  As  I  believe  I  wired 
you,  I'm  going  to  put  you  in  steam." 

"You  didn't  consult  me  about  it,  sir ;  but,  to  please  you, 
I'll  tackle  steam.  I'm  very  grateful  for  your  interest  in 
me,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"Huh!  That's  not  true,  Matt.  You're  not  grateful; 
and  if  you  are  you  have  no  business  to  be.  I  paid  you  a 
hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  a  month  to  skipper  the 
Retriever ;  you  earned  every  cent  of  it  and  I  made  you 
fight  for  the  job;  so,  no  thanks  to  me.  And  I  know  for  a 
fact  that  you  and  Mr.  Murphy  cursed  me  up  hill  and 
down  dale " 

"Oh,  Captain  Peasley!"  Miss  Ricks  interrupted.  "Did 
you  curse  my  father?" 

"She's  trying  to  fluster  me,"  Matt  thought.  "She 
thinks  I'm  a  farmer."  Aloud  he  said:  "Well,  you  see, 
Miss  Ricks,  I  had  to  work  for  him.  However,  Mr.  Mur* 
phy  and  I  have  forgiven  him.  We're  both  willing  to  Ic? 
bygones  be  bygones." 

"Young  scoundrel!"  piped  Cappy,  delighted  beyond 
measure,  for  he  was  used  to  unimaginative,  rather  dull 
skippers,  who  revered  their  berths  and  stood  before  him, 
hat  in  hand,  plainly  uncomfortable  in  the  presence  of  the 
creator  of  the  payroll.  "Dashed  young  scoundrel !  Well, 
we  had  some  fun  anyhow,  didn't  we,  Matt?  And,  as  the 
young  fellows  say,  I  got  your  Capricorn.  Very  well,  then. 
We'll  make  a  new  start,  Matthew ;  and  if  you  pay  atten 
tion  to  business  it's  barely  possible  you  may  amount  to 
something  yet. 

"I'm  going  to  provide  a  berth  for  you,  my  boy,  as 
second  mate  on  the  dirtiest,  leakiest  little  bumboat  you 
ever  saw — our  steam  schooner  Gualala.  She's  a  nautical 
disgrace  and  carries  three  hundred  thousand  feet  of 


144  CAPPY    RICKS 

lumber — runs  into  the  dogholes  on  the  Mendocino  Coast 
and  takes  in  cargo  on  a  trolley  running  from  the  top  of 
the  cliff  to  the  masthead.  It'll  be  your  job  to  get  out  in  a 
small  boat  to  pick  up  the  moorings ;  and  that'll  be  no 
picnic  in  the  wintertime,  because  you  lie  just  outside  the 
edge  of  the  breakers.  But  you'll  learn  how  to  pick  up 
moorings,  Matt,  and  you'll  learn  how  to  turn  a  steamer 
round  on  her  heels  also." 

"I  never  did  that  kind  of  work  before,"  Matt  protested. 
"I  stand  a  good  chance  of  getting  drowned,  don't  I  ?" 

"Of  course!  But  better  men  than  you  do  it;  so  don't 
kick.  In  the  spring  I'll  shift  you  to  a  larger  boat ;  but  I 
want  you  to  have  one  winter  along  the  Mendocino  Coast. 
It'll  about  break  your  heart,  but  it  will  do  you  an  awful 
lot  of  good,  Matt.  When  you  finish  in  the  Gualala,  you'll 
go  in  the  Florence  Ricks  and  run  from  Grays  Harbor  to 
San  Pedro.  Then,  when  you  get  your  first  mate's 
license,  I'll  put  you  in  our  Tillicum,  where  you'll  learn  how 
to  handle  a  big  vessel;  and  by  the  time  you  get  your 
master's  license  for  steam  you'll  be  ready  to  start  for 
Philadelphia  to  bring  out  the  finest  freighter  on  this 
Coast.  How  does  that  prospect  strike  you?" 

Matt's  eyes  glowed.  He  forgot  the  two  years'  appren 
ticeship  and  thought  only  of  the  prize  Cappy  was 
dangling  before  him. 

"If  faithful  service  will  be  a  guaranty  of  my  apprecia 
tion "  he  began ;  but  Cappy  interrupted. 

"Nonsense !  Not  another  peep  out  of  you.  You'd 
better  take  a  little  rest  now  for  a  couple  of  weeks  and  get 
your  stomach  in  order  after  all  that  creosote.  Meantime, 
if  you  should  need  any  money,  Skinner  will  fix  you  up." 

"I'll  not  need  any,  thank  you.  I  saved  sixteen  hundred 
'dollars  while  I  was  in  the  Retriever " 


FACE  TO  FACE  145 

"Fine !  Good  boy !"  exclaimed  Cappy,  delighted  beyond 
measure  at  this  proof  of  Matt's  Yankee  thrift  and 
sobriety.  "But  don't  save  it,  Matt.  Invest  it.  Put  it  in 
a  mortgage  for  three  years.  I  know  a  captain  now  that 
wants  to  borrow  a  thousand  dollars  at  eight  per  cent, 
to  buy  an  interest  in  one  of  our  vessels.  You  shall  loao 
it  to  him,  Matt,  and  he'll  secure  you  with  the  insurance. 
Perfectly  safe.  Guarantee  it  myself.  Bring  your  thous 
and  dollars  round  in  the  morning,  Matt.  Understand? 
No  fooling  now!  Make  your  money  work  for  you.  You 
bet!  If  I'm  not  here  to-morrow  leave  the  money  with 
Skinner." 

"Mr.  Skinner  is  the  general  manager,  isn't  he?" 

"Yes,  and  a  mighty  clever  one,  too.  Don't  you  monkey 
with  Skinner,  young  man.  He  doesn't  like  you  and  he 
doesn't  bluff  worth  a  cent;  and  if  you  ever  have  a  run-in 
with  him  while  I'm  away  and  he  fires  you — well,  I  guess 
I'd  have  to  stand  by  Skinner,  Matt.  I  can't  afford  to 
lose  him.  Cold-blooded  dog — no  sense  of  humor;  but 
honest — a  pig  for  work,  and  capable." 

"I'll  be  very  careful,  sir,"  Matt  assured  him.  "Thank 
you  for  the  vacation,  the  promised  job,  and  the  chance  to 
invest  my  thousand  dollars  at  eight  per  cent.  And,  now 
that  my  affairs  are  out  of  the  way,  let's  talk  about  yours. 
I  think  I  can  get  you  a  four-year  charter  for  your 
steamer  Lion " 

"Matt,"  said  Cappy  Ricks  impressively,  "if  you  can 
get  that  brute  of  a  boat  off  my  hands  for  four  years,  and 
at  a  figure  that  will  pay  me  ten  per  cent,  on  her  cost 
price,  I'll  tell  you  what — I'll  pay  you  a  commission." 

"I  don't  want  any  commission,  sir,  for  working  for 
the  interests  of  my  employer.  What  do  you  reckon  it 
costs  a  day  to  operate  the  Lion?" 


I46  CAPPY    RICKS 

Cappy  drew  a  scratch  pad  toward  him  and  commenced 
to  figure. 

"She'll  burn  a  hundred  and  seventy  barrels  of  crude 
oil  a  day,  at  sixty-five  cents  a  barrel.  That's  about  a 
hundred  and  ten  dollars.  Her  wages  will  average  seventy- 
five  dollars  a  day;  it  costs  twenty  dollars  a  day  to  feed 
her  crew ;  incidentals,  say  twenty  dollars  a  day ;  insur 
ance,  say,  four  dollars  a  day;  wireless,  three  and  a  half 
dollars ;  depreciation,  say,  two  dollars  and  seventy-five 
cents  a  day ;  total  in  round  figures  two  hundred  and  thirty- 
five  dollars  a  day.  I  ought  to  get  four  hundred  dollars 
a  day  for  her ;  but  in  a  pinch  like  the  present  I'd  be  glad 
to  get  her  off  my  hands  at  three  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars.  But,  no  matter  what  the  price  may  be,  Matt,  I'm 
afraid  we  can't  charter  her." 

"Why?" 

"Because  the  Black  Butte  Lumber  Company  owns  her 
sister,  the  Unicorn ;  she's  a  burden  on  their  back,  as  the 
Lion  is  on  mine,  there's  war  to  the  finish  between  Hudner, 
the  Black  Butte  manager,  and  myself,  and  he'll  get  the 
business.  He's  a  dog,  Matt — always  cutting  prices 
below  the  profit  point  and  raising  hob  in  the  market. 
Infernal  marplot !  He  stole  the  best  stenographer  in  the 
United  States  from  me  here  about  three  years  ago." 

"Where  is  Hudner's  office?"  Matt  queried. 

"In  this  building — sixth  floor."  Matt  rose  and  started 
for  the  door.  "Where  are  you  going  now,  Matt?"  Cappj 
piped. 

"Why,  you  say  the  Unicorn  will  compete  against  the 
Lion  for  this  charter  I  have  in  mind.  That  is  true  enough. 
I  know  the  Black  Butte  Lumber  Company  will  be 
approached  for  the  Unicorn ;  so  I'm  going  to  get  the 
Unicorn  out  of  the  way  and  give  you  a  clear  field  with  the 


FACE  TO  FACE  147 

Lion.  I  figured  it  all  out  coming  down  on  the  train." 
And,  without  waiting  to  listen  to  Cappy's  protestations, 
Matt  left  the  office. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

BUSINESS    AND 

Three  minutes  later  he  was  closeted  with  Hudner,  of 
the  Black  Butte  Lumber  Company. 

"My  name  is  Peasley,  Mr.  Hudner,"  he  began  truth 
fully.  "I  arrived  from  Seattle  this  morning.  I  am  looking 
for  a  steam  freighter  for  some  very  responsible  people 
and  your  Unicorn  appears  to  be  about  the  vessel 
they're  looking  for.  They  would  want  her  to  run  coast 
wise,  and  prefer  to  charter  at  a  flat  rate  a  day,  owners  to 
pay  all  expenses  of  operating  the  ship.  Would  you  be, 
willing  to  charter  for  sixty  days,  with  an  option  on  the 
vessel  for  an  extension  of  the  charter  on  the  same  terms 
for  four  years,  provided  she  proves  satisfactory  for  my 
clients'  purposes?" 

Mr.  Hudner  started  slightly.  Four  years !  It  seemed 
almost  too  good  to  be  true.  He  was  certain  of  this  the 
next  instant  when  he  thought  of  Cappy  Ricks'  Lion,  also 
laid  up  and  as  hungry  for  business  as  the  Unicorn.  He 
wondered  whether  this  young  broker  from  Seattle  had 
called  on  Cappy  Ricks  as  yet ;  and,  wondering,  he 
decided  to  name  a  price  low  enough  to  prove  interesting 
and,  by  closing  promptly,  eliminate  his  hated  competitor 
from  all  consideration. 

"I  should  be  very  glad  to  consider  your  proposition, 
Mr.  Peasley,"  he  said.  "You  say  your  clients  arc  entirely 
responsible?" 

148 


BUSINESS  AND 149 

"They  will  post  a  bond  if  you're  not  satisfied  on  that 
point,  Mr.  Hudner.  What  will  your  charter  the  Unicorn 
for,  a  day?" 

Mr.  Hudner  pretended  to  do  a  deal  of  figuring.  At  the 
end  of  five  minutes  he  said:  "Three  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  a  day,  net  to  the  vessel." 

Matt  nodded,  rose  and  reached  for  his  hat. 

"I  guess  you  don't  want  to  charter  your  vessel,  sir," 
he  said.  "I'm  not  working  for  my  health,  either;  so  I 
guess  I'll  look  for  some  other  vessel.  I  hear  the  Lion  is  on 
the  market."  And  without  further  ado  he  walked  out. 

Mr.  Hudner  let  him  go;  then  ran  after  him  and 
cornered  him  in  the  hall. 

"I'll  let  you  have  her  at  three  hundred  and  thirty,"  he 
said  desperately ;  "and  that's  bedrock.  And  if  your  clients 
elect  to  take  her  for  four  years,  I'll  pay  you  a  thousand 
dollars  commission  on  the  deal.  The  vessel  simply  can 
not  afford  to  pay  more." 

After  his  conversation  with  Gappy  Ricks,  Matt  realized 
that  Hudner  had,  indeed,  named  a  very  low  price  on  the 
Unicorn.  But  Matt  was  a  Yankee.  He  knew  he  had 
Hudner  where  the  hair  was  short ;  so  he  said : 

"I'll  give  you  three  twenty-five  and  accept  a  thousand 
Hollars  commission  in  case  my  clients  take  her  for  four 
years.  That's  my  final  offer,  Mr.  Hudner.  Take  it  or 
leave  it." 

"I'll  take  it,"  said  poor  Hudner.  "It's  better  than 
letting  the  vessel  fall  to  pieces  in  Rotten  Row.  How  soon 
will  you  hear  definitely  from  your  principals?" 

"I'll  hear  to-day ;  but  meantime  you  might  give  me  a 
three-day  option  on  the  vessel,  in  case  of  unavoidable 
delays — though  I'll  do  my  best  to  close  the  matter  up  at 
once." 


150  GAPPY    RICKS 

Hudner  considered.  The  Unicorn  had  paid  his 
company  but  two  dividends  since  her  purchase  from  Cappy 
Ricks,  while  it  was  common  talk  on  'Change  that  the  Lion 
had  paid  for  herself  prior  to  the  1907  panic.  In  consid 
eration  of  the  fact,  therefore,  that  the  Lion  did  not  owe 
Cappy  Ricks  a  cent,  Hudner  shrewdly  judged  that  Cappy 
would  be  less  eager  than  he  for  business,  and  that  hence  it 
would  be  safe  to  give  a  three-day  option.  He  led  Matt 
back  to  his  office,  where  he  dictated  and  signed  the  option. 
Matt  gave  him  a  dollar  and  the  trap  was  set. 

From  Hudner's  office  Matt  returned  to  that  of  Cappy 
Ricks.  The  heir  to  the  Ricks  millions  vvas  still  there,  as 
Matt  noted  with  a  sudden,  strange  thrill  of  satisfaction. 

"I've  waited  until  your  return,  Captain  Peasley,"  she 
said,  "to  see  whether  you  could  dispose  of  dad's  competi 
tor  as  handily  as  you  disposed  of  your  own  that  time  in 
Cape  Town." 

Matt  blushed  and  Cappy  chuckled. 

"I've  bet  Florry  five  thousand  dollars  you'll  dispose  of 
Hudner  and  the  Unicorn,  Matt,"  he  said. 

"I'm  glad  of  that,  sir,  because  if  you  hope  to  win  the 
bet  you'll  have  to  help  me.  I've  gone  as  far  as  I  can,  sir. 
I've  got  an  option  on  the  Unicorn  for  three  days  on  a 
sixty-day  charter,  running  coastwise  with  general  cargo, 
with  the  privilege  of  renewing  for  four  years  at  the  same 
rate.  The  rate,  by  the  way,  is  three  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  dollars.  I  want  you  to  charter  her  from  Hudner ;  and 
then " 

"Bless  your  soul,  boy,  I  don't  want  her!  Haven't  I 
got  a  boat  of  my  own  I'd  almost  be  willing  to  charter  at 
the  same  figure  to  Hudner?" 

"You  don't  understand,  sir.  The  Mannheim  people, 
with  copper  mines  in  Alaska,  want  two  boats  to  freight 


BUSINESS  AND 151! 

ore — and  their  agent  came  down  on  the  train  with  me. 
Don't  you  see,  sir,  that  you  have  to  control  both  boats  to 
get  a  price  ?  If  you  don't  that  agent  will  play  you  against 
Hudncr  and  Hudner  against  you,  until  he  succeeds  in} 
tying  up  both  boats  at  a  low  price.  He  wouldn't  tell  you 
he  wants  two  boats,  but  he  was  fool  enough  to  tell  me " 

"God  bless  my  mildewed  soul!"  said  Cappy  excitedly, 
and  smashed  his  old  fist  down  on  his  desk.  "For  the  man 
to  do  things,  give  me  the  lad  who  keeps  his  ears  open  and 
his  mouth  shut !  Of  course  we'll  charter  her ;  and,  what's 
more,  we'll  give  her  business  ourselves  for  sixty  days  just 
to  keep  her  off  the  market !" 

"Then  you'd  better  hurry  and  close  the  deal,  sir,"  Matt 
warned  him.  "I  only  arrived  in  town  this  morning;  and 
I  checked  my  baggage  at  the  depot  and  came  up  here 
immediately.  The  Seattle  broker  went  up  to  his  hotel.  He 
said  he  had  to  have  a  bath  and  a  shave  and  some  clean 
linen  first  thing,"  he  added  scornfully:  "Me,  I'd  swim 
Channel  Creek  at  low  tide  in  a  dress  suit  if  I  had  import 
ant  business  on  the  other  side." 

"Matt,"  said  Cappy  gratefully,  "you're  a  boy  after  my 
own  heart.  Really,  I  think  you  ought  to  get  something 
out  of  this  if  we  put  it  through." 

"Well,  as  I  stated,  I  wouldn't  take  anything  out  of  the 
Lion  charter,  because  it's  my  duty  to  save  you  when  some 
body  has  a  gun  at  your  head ;  but  on  the  Unicorn  charter 
I  thought — well,  if  you  can  recharter  at  a  profit  I  thought 
you  might  agree  to  split  the  profit  with  me.  I'm  a 
skipper,  you  know,  and  this  sort  of  thing  is  out  of  my 
regular  line ;  and  besides,  I'm  not  on  your  pay  roll  at; 
present.  I've  promoted  the  deal,  so  to  speak.  I  supply 
the  ship  and  the  brains  an'*  the  valuable  information,  and 
you  supply  business  for  the  ship." 


152  CAPPY    RICKS 

"Yes;  and,  in  spite  of  the  hard  times,  I'll  supply  it  at 
a  profit  if  I  have  to,"  Cappy  declared  happily.  "Of 
course  I'll  split  the  profit  with  you,  Matt.  As  you  say, 
this  Unicorn  deal  is  outside  your  regular  line.  It's  a 
private  deal ;  and  as  the  promoter  of  it  you're  entitled  to 
your  legitimate  profit."  He  rang  for  Mr.  Skinner. 

"Skinner,  my  boy,"  he  said  when  that  functionary 
entered,  "Matt  and  I  are  going  to  unload  that  white 
elephant  of  a  Lion  and  get  her  off  our  hands  for  four  years 
at  a  fancy  figure ;  but  to  do  it  we've  got  to  charter 
another  white  elephant — the  Black  Butte  Lumber 
Company's  Unicorn.  Here's  an  option  Captain  has  just 
secured  on  her.  Have  the  charter  parties  made  out 
immediately  in  conformity  with  this  option  and  bring  them 
here  for  my  signature." 

Mr.  Skinner  read  the  option  and  began  to  protest. 

"Mr.  Ricks,  I  tell  you  we  cannot  possibly  use  the 
Unicorn  for  sixty  days,  if  you  are  forced  to  keep  her  off 
the  market  that  long.  If  this  thing  develops  into  a  waiting 
game " 

"I'll  wear  the  other  side  out,"  Cappy  finished  for  him. 
"Listen  to  me,  Skinner !  How's  the  shingle  market  in  the 
Southwest?" 

"The  market  is  steady  at  three  dollars  and  fifty  cents, 
f.o.b.  Missouri  River  common  points." 

Cappy  scratched  his  ear  and  cogitated. 

"The  Unicorn  will  carry  eighteen  million  shingles,"  he 
murmured.  "The  going  water  freight  from  Grays 
Harbor  to  San  Francisco  is  how  much?" 

"Thirty-five  cents  a  thousand,"  Mr.  Skinner  replied 
promptly. 

"Therefore,  if  we  used  one  of  our  own  vessels  to  freight 
eighteen  million  shingles  it  would  cost  us " 


BUSINESS  AND 153 

"Six  thousand  three  hundred  dollars,"  prompted  Mr. 
Skinner. 

"Fortunately  for  us,  however,  we  do  not  use  one  of 
our  own  vessels.  We  use  that  fellow  Hudner's  and  we  get 
her  for  three  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  a  day.  She 
can  sail  from  here  to  Grays  Harbor,  take  on  her  cargo, 
get  back  to  San  Francisco  and  discharge  it  in  twelve  days. 
What's  twelve  times  three  hundred  and  twenty-five?" 

"Thirty-nine  hundred  dollars,"  flashed  Skinner,  to  the 
tremendous  admiration  of  Matt  Peasley,  who  now 
considered  the  manager  an  intellectual  marvel. 

"Being  a  saving  of  how  much?"  Gappy  droned  on. 

"Twenty-four  hundred  dollars,"  answered  the  efficient 
human  machine  without  seeming  to  think  for  an  instant. 

"Being  a  saving  of  how  many  cents  on  a  thousand 
shingles  ?" 

Mr.  Skinner  closed  one  eye,  cocked  the  other  at  the 
ceiling  an  instant  and  said: 

"Thirteen  and  one-third  cents  a  thousand." 

"Very  well,  then,  Skinner.  Now  listen  to  my  instruc 
tions:  Wire  all  the  best  shingle  mills  on  Grays  Harbor 
for  quotations  on  Extra  Star  A  Stars  in  one  to  five 
million  lots,  delivery  fifteen,  thirty  and  forty-five  days  from 
date ;  and  if  the  price  is  right  buy  'em  all.  We  have  about 
ten  millions  on  hand  at  our  own  mill.  To-night  send  out 
a  flock  of  night  letters  to  all  the  wholesale  jobbers  and 
brokers  in  Kansas,  Missouri,  Oklahoma,  Texas,  and  all 
points  taking  a  sixty-cent  tariff,  and  quote  'em  ten  cents 
under  the  market  subject  to  prior  acceptance." 

He  turned  to  Matt  Peasley. 

"That  clause — 'subject  to  prior  acceptance' — saves  our 
faces  in  case  we  find  ourselves  unable  to  deliver  the  goods," 
he  explained,  and  turned  again  to  Skinner. 


i54  CAPPY    RICKS 

"We  can  freight  the  shingles  from  Grays  Harbor  to 
San  Francisco  in  the  Unicorn ;  re-ship  on  cars  from  Long 
Wharf  and  beat  the  direct  car  shipments  from  the  mills 
ten  cents,  and  still  make  our  regular  profit.  Besides,  the 
cut  in  price  will  bring  us  in  a  raft  of  orders  we  could  not' 
get  otherwise.  We  can  thus  keep  the  Unicorn  busy  for 
sixty  days  without  losing  a  cent  on  her,  and  if  we  haven't 
come  to  terms  with  the  Mannheim  people  at  the  end  of 
that  time  we'll  find  something  else  for  her.  And,  of  course, 
if  we  succeed  meantime  in  chartering  the  Lion  at  a  satis 
factory  price,  we  can  throw  the  Unicorn  back  on  Hudner 
at  the  end  of  the  sixty  days."  And  Gappy  snickered 
malevolently  as  he  pictured  his  enemy's  discomfiture  under 
these  circumstances. 

Mr.  Skinner  nodded  his  comprehension  and  hastened 
away  to  prepare  the  charter  parties. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

THE    CLEAN    UP 

HUDNER,  manager  of  the  Black  Butte  Lumber  Com 
pany,  arched  his  eyebrows  as  Matt  Peasley  entered  his 
office  half  an  hour  after  he  had  left  it  and  presented  for 
Hudner's  signature  a  formal  charter  party,  in  duplicate, 
wherein  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  chartered 
from  J.  B.  Hudner,  managing  owner  of  record,  the  Amer 
ican  Steamer  Unicorn  for  sixty  days  from  date,  at  the 
rate  of  three  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  a  day,  said 
managing  owner  to  pay  all  expenses  of  operating  said 
Unicorn. 

"Huh !"  Mr.  Hudner  snorted.  <Td  like  to  know  what 
the  devil  Cappy  Ricks  wants  of  my  Unicorn  when  he's  got 
her  infernal  sister  squatting  in  the  mud  of  Oakland  Creek? 
There's  something  rotten  in  Denmark,  Mr.  Peasley.  There 
always  is  when  that  old  scoundrel  Ricks  does  incompre 
hensible  things." 

"Very  likely  he's  up  to  some  skullduggery,  sir,"  Matt 
opined. 

"I  wish  you  had  informed  me  of  the  identity  of  your 
client,  Mr.  Peasley,"  Hudner  complained.  "I  don't  like 
to  sign  this  charter." 

"I  cannot  help  that  now,  sir,"  Matt  retorted.  "You 
have  agreed  in  writing  to  charter  the  vessel  to  any 
responsible  person  I  might  bring  to  you,  and  I  guess  the 
Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  comes  under  that  head." 

155 


GAPPY    RICKS 

Mr.  Hudner  sighed  and  gritted  his  teeth.  Instinct  told 
bim  there  was  deviltry  afoot,  hut  in  an  evil  moment  he 
had  sewed  himself  up  and  he  had  no  alternative  now  save 
to  complete  the  contract  or  stand  suit.  So  he  signed  the 
charter  party  and  retained  the  original,  while  Matt  Peas- 
ley,  with  the  duplicate  in  his  pocket,  hastened  back  to 
Cappy  Ricks'  office. 

"Matt,"  said  Cappy  approvingly,  "you're  a  bora  busi 
ness  man,  and  it  will  be  strange  indeed  if  you  don't  pick 
up  a  nice  little  piece  of  money  on  this  Unicorn  deal."  He 
glanced  at  his  watch  and  then  turned  to  his  daughter. 

"Florry,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "would  you  like  to  go 
up-town  with  your  daddy  and  Captain  Peasley  for  lunch 
eon?" 

Matt  Peasley  grinned  like  a  Jack-o'-lantern,  all  lit  up 
for  Hallowe'en. 

"Fine!"  he  said  enthusiastically. 

Florence  withered  him  with  one  impersonal  glance,  saw 
that  she  had  destroyed  him  utterly,  relented,  and  grac 
iously  acquiesced.  When  they  left  the  office  Matt  Peas- 
ley  was  stepping  high,  like  a  ten-time  winner,  for  he  had 
suddenly  made  the  discovery  that  life  ashore  was  a  wonder 
ful,  wonderful  thing.  There  was  such  a  lilt  in  his  young 
heart  that,  for  the  life  of  him,  he  could  not  forbear  doing 
a  little  double  shuffe  as  he  waited  at  the  elevator  with 
Cappy  and  his  daughter.  He  sang : 

"Tlie  first  mate's  boat  was  the  first  away; 

But  the  whale  gave  a  fiip  of  his  tail, 
And  down  to  the  bottom  went  five  brave  boys. 

Never  again  to  sail 

Brave  boys, 
Never  again  to  sail! 


THE  CLEAN  UP  157 

When  the  captain  heard  of  the  loss  of  his  whale, 

Right  loud-lee  then  he  swore. 
When  he  heard  of  the  loss  of  his  five  brave  boys, 

*07i,'  he  said,  'we  can  ship  some  more  brave  boys — 
'O/i,'  he  said,  'we  can  ship  some  more.' ' 

Cappj  winked  slyly  at  his  daughter,  but  she  did  not  see 
the  wink.  She  had  eyes  for  nobody  but  Matt  Peasley,  for 
he  was  a  brand-new  note  in  her  life.  They  were  half 
through  luncheon  before  Florry  discovered  the  exact 
nature  of  this  fascinating  new  note.  Matt  Peasley  was 
real.  There  was  not  an  artificial  thought  or  action  in  his 
scheme  of  things ;  he  bubbled  with  homely  Yankee  wit ;  he 
was  intensely  democratic  and  ramping  with  youth  and 
health  and  strength  and  the  joy  of  living;  he  could  sing 
funny  little  songs  and  tell  funny  little  stories  about  funny 
little  adventures  that  had  befallen  him.  She  liked  him. 

After  luncheon  Cappy  declared  that  Matt  should 
return  to  the  office  with  him,  while  Florry  instructed  the 
waiter  to  ring  for  a  taxicab  for  her.  Later,  when  Matt 
gallantly  handed  her  into  the  taxi,  he  asked  innocently : 

"Where  are  you  going,  Miss  Florry?" 

"Home,"  she  said. 

He    looked    at   her    so    wistfully    that    she    could    not 
mistake  the  hidden  meaning  in  his  words  when  he  asked, 
with  a  deprecatory  grin : 
1      "Where  do  you  live?" 

"With  my  father,"  she  said,  and  closed  the  door. 

When  Cappy  and  Matt  returned  to  the  Blue  Star 
offices  they  were  informed  that  Mr.  Allan  Hayes  was 
patiently  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  managing  owner  of 
the  Lion.  Matt  concluded,  therefore,  to  remain  secluded 
while  Cappy  went  into  his  own  office  and  met  Mr.  Hayes. 


158  CAFF*    KICKS 

Two  hours  later  Cappy  summoned  Skinner  and  Matt 
to  his  sanctum. 

"Skinner,"  he  said  briskly^  "have  you  bought  any 
shingles  ?" 

"I  have  not,"  said  Mr.  Skinner. 

"Have  you  sent  out  those  telegrams  to  the  dealers?" 

"Not  yet,  Mr.  Ricks.  I  was  going  to  have  them  filed 
just  before  we  close  the  office." 

"Well,"  said  Cappy  smilingly?  "don't  accept  any  quo 
tations  unlil  to-morrow  and  don't  send  out  those  telegrams 
until  further  advice  from  me.  I  locked  horns  with  that 
man  Hayes,  and  I  think  1  <Tored  him,  Matt.  It  appeared 
lie  called  on  me  first ;  and  when  I  quoted  him  four  hundred 
dollars  a  day  on  the  Lion,  he  favored  me  with  a  sweet 
smile  and  said  he  could  get  the  Unicorn  for  three-fifty. 
So,  of  course,  I  had  to  explain  to  him  that  he  couldn't, 
because  I  wouldn't  charter  her  at  any  such  ridiculous 
figure !  That  took  the  ginger  out  of  him  and  we  got  down 
to  business,  with  the  result  that  I've  given  him  a  forty- 
eight-hour  option  on  both  boats  at  four  hundred  dollars 
a  day  each,  with  a  commission  of  two  thousand  dollars 
cash  in  full  to  him." 

"Why,  he  told  me  he  would  get  two  and  a  half  per  cent. 
commission !"  Matt  declared.  "He  figured  he'd  have  an 
income  of  twenty  dollars  a  day  for  the  next  four  years." 

"I  daresay  he  did,  Matt,"  Cappy  replied  dryly;  "but 
then,  in  the  very  best  business  circles  you  never  pay  a 
broker  two  and  a  half  commission  when  you  know  who 
his  principals  are!  If  he  insists,  you  eliminate  him 
entirely  and  do  business  direct.  Of  course,  my  boy,  if  he 
had  put  the  proposition  up  to  me,  and  I  had  agreed  to 
pay  him  the  regular  commission  while  ignorant  of  the 
identity  of  his  principals,  and  he  had  then  reposed 


THE  CLEAN  UP  159 

confidence  in  my  business  honor  and  told  me  whom  he 
represented,  he  would  have  been  perfectly  safe.  Remember, 
Matt,  that  the  business  man  without  a  code  of  business 
honor  never  stays  in  business  very  long.  From  the  office 
to  the  penitentiary  or  the  cemetery  is  a  quick  jump  for 
birds  of  that  feather." 

"Then,  why  did  you  offer  him  two  thousand  dollars?" 
"Because  it  never  pays  to  be  a  hog,  my  son,  and  be 
sides  I  want  to  close  this  deal  and  close  it  quickly.  Nat 
urally  Hayes  isn't  fool  enough  to  toss  away  two  thousand 
dollars,  and  something  seems  to  tell  me  he'll  urge  his 
principals  to  take  the  boats  at  our  figure,  Matthew!" 
And  the  graceless  old  villain  chuckled  and  dug  his  young 
est  skipper  in  the  short  ribs.  "Let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you, 
my  boy,"  he  warned  him.  "Remember  the  old  Persian 
proverb :  'A  shut  mouth  catches  no  flies.' ' 

Cappy's  prediction  proved  to  be  correct,  for  the 
following  morning  Hayes  telephoned  that  the  Mannheim 
people  desired  the  steamers  at  Cappy's  figures,  the  charter 
parties,  signed  by  Cappy,  were  forwarded  to  Seattle,  and 
in  due  course  were  returned  signed  by  the  charterers ; 
whereupon  Cappy  exercised  his  option,  procured  by  Matt 
from  Hudner,  to  charter  the  Unicorn  for  four  years  ad 
ditional. 

"What  did  Hudner  have  to  say  for  himself?"  Cappy 
([ueried  when  Matt  returned  from  the  latter's  office,  after 
finally  completing  the  deal. 

"Not  a  word !  He  looked  volumes,  though,  sir." 
"Serves  him  right.  That  man,  sir,  is  a  thorn  in  the 
side  of  the  market.  However,  since  we're  making  a  daily 
profit  on  him  we  can  afford  to  speak  kindly  of  the 
unfortunate  fellow,  Matt ;  so  sit  down  and  we'll  figure  out 
where  we  stand  on  the  Unicorn.  She  costs  us  three-twenty- 


160  GAPPY    RICKS 

five  and  we've  chartered  her  at  four  hundred — a  daily 
profit  of  seventy-five  dollars,  of  which  you  receive  thirty- 
seven  dollars  and  fifty  cents.  That  makes  eleven  hundred 
and  twenty-five  dollars  monthly  income  for  you,  my  boy ; 
and,  believe  me,  it  isn't  to  be  sneezed  at.  Meantime  you 
and  I,  as  partners,  owe  me  a  thousand  dollars  commission 
to  that  Seattle  broker;  so  I'll  have  Skinner  make  a  journal 
entry  and  charge  your  account  five  hundred  dollars. 
There's  no  need  to  pay  it  now,  Matt.  Wait  until  the  ves 
sel  earns  it." 

"The  vessel  might  sink  on  her  first  voyage  and  that 
would  cancel  the  charter,"  Matt  replied ;  "so  I  guess  I'll 
be  a  sport  and  hold  up  my  end.  You  paid  out  the  hard 
cash  and  took  a  chance,  and  so  will  I."  And,  with  the 
words,  Matt  drew  from  his  pocket  the  Black  Butte  Lumber 
Company's  check  for  a  thousand  dollars,  indorsed  it  and 
passed  it  over  to  Cappy  Ricks.  "We're  equal  partners, 
sir,"  he  said,  "and  I  pried  that  thousand  out  of  Hudner 
on  the  side  as  a  commission  for  chartering  the  Unicorn 
to  you.  Half  of  it  is  yours  and  I  owe  you  the  other  half; 
so  there  you  are." 

Cappy  Ricks  threw  up  his  hands  in  token  of  complete 
surrender. 

"Scoundrel !"  he  cried.  "Damned  young  scoundrel ! 
You  Yankee  thief,  haven't  you  any  conscience?"  And 
he  laid  his  old  head  on  his  desk  and  laughed  his  shrill, 
senile  laugh,  while  tears  of  joy  rolled  down  his  rosy  old 
cheeks.  "Oh-h-h-h,  my!"  he  cackled.  "But  wait  until  I 
get  Hudner  among  my  young  friends  at  the  Round  Table 
up  at  the  Commercial  Club  to-morrow!  To  think  of  a 
young  pup  like  you  coming  in  and  chasing  an  old  dog  like 
Hudner  round  the  lot  and  taking  his  bone  away  from  him !" 

He  turned  to  the  general  manager : 


THE  CLEAN  UP  161 

"Oh,  Skinner!  Skinner,  my  dear  boy,  this  will  be  the 
death  of  me  yet!  Remember  that  old  maid  stenographer 
Hudner  stole  away  from  us,  Skinner?  Remember?  Oh, 
but  isn't  he  paying  for  her  through  the  nose?  Isn't  he, 
Skinner?  Oh,  dear!  Oh,  dear,  what  a  lot  of  fun  there  is 
in  just  living  and  raising  hell  with  your  neighbor — par 
ticularly,  Skinner,  when  he  happens  to  be  a  competitor." 

When  Gappy  could  control  his  mirth  he  handed  the 
money  back  to  Matt. 

"Oh,  Matt,  my  dear  young  bandit,"  he  informed  that 
amazed  young  man,  "I'm  human.  I  can't  take  this  money. 
It's  been  worth  a  thousand  dollars  to  have  had  this  laugh 
and  to  know  I've  got  a  lad  like  you  growing  up  in  my 
employ.  You're  worth  a  bonus,  Matt ;  I'll  stand  all  the 
commission.  Soak  Hudner's  thousand  away  in  the  bank, 

Matt ;  or,  better  still Here !  Here ;  let's  figure,  Matt : 

You  had  sixteen  hundred  saved  up  and  you've  loaned  a 
thousand  on  that  mortgage.  Now  you've  made  a  thousand 
more.  Better  buy  a  good  thousand-dollar  municipal  bond, 
Matt.  That's  better  than  savings-bank  interest,  and  you 
can  always  realize  on  the  bond.  I'll  buy  the  bond  for 

you." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  Matt  replied. 


CHAPTER    XXV 

CAPPY    PROVES    HIMSELF    A    DESPOT 

GAPPY  RICKS  lay  back  in  his  swivel  chair,  his  feet  on  his 
desk  and  his  eyes  closed.  He  was  thinking  deeply,  for 
he  had  something  to  think  about.  Coming  in  from  his 
club  the  night  before  he  had  observed  that  Florry  was 
entertaining  company  in  the  billiard  room,  as  the  crash 
of  pool  balls  testified.  He  had  scarcely  reached  his  room 
on  the  second  floor,  however,  when  the  pool  game  came  to 
an  end  and  he  heard  voices  in  the  drawing  room,  followed 
presently  by  a  few  random  chords  struck  on  the  piano, 
and  a  resonant  barytone  was  raised  in  the  strangest  song 
ever  heard  in  that  drawing  room — a  deep-sea  chantey. 

Cappy  was  no  great  shakes  on  music,  but  before  he  had 
listened  to  the  first  verse  of  Rolling  Home  he  knew 
Captain  Matt  Peasley  for  the  singer  and  suspected  his 
daughter  of  faking  the  accompaniment.  He  listened  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs  and  presently  was  treated  to  a  rendition 
of  a  lilting  little  Swedish  ballad,  followed  by  one  or  two 
selections  from  the  Grand  Banks  and  the  doleful  song  of 
the  Ferocious  Whale  and  the  Five  Brave  Boys.  Then  he 
heard  Florry  laugh  happily. 

'  Cappy  was  thinking  of  the  curious  inflection  in  that 
laugh  now.  Once  before  he  had  heard  it — when  he  courted 
Florry's  dead  mother ;  and  his  old  heart  swelled  a  little 
with  pain  at  the  remembrance.  He  was  wondering  just 
what  to  do  about  that  laugh  when  Matt  was  announced. 

162 


CAPPY  PROVES  A  DESPOT  163 

"Show  him  in,"  said  Cappy ;  and  Matt  Peasley  entered. 

"Sit  down,  Matt,"  said  Cappy  kindly.  "Yes,  I  sent 
for  you.  The  Gualala  will  be  in  to-morrow  and  you've 
had  a  fine  two-weeks'  vacation.  What's  more,  I  think 
you've  enjoyed  it,  Matt,  and  I'm  glad  you  did;  but  now 
it's  time  to  get  down  to  business  again.  I  wanted  to  tell 
}'ou  that  the  skipper  of  the  Gualala  will  expect  you  to  be 
aboard  at  seven  o'clock  to-morrow  morning." 

Matt  studied  the  pattern  of  the  office  rug  a  minute  and 
then  faced  Cappy  bravely. 

"I'm  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Ricks,  more  than  I  can  say; 
but  the  fact  of  the  matter  is  I've  changed  my  mind  about 
going  to  sea  again.  It's  a  dog's  life,  sir,  and  I'm  tired 
of  it." 

"Tired  at  twenty-three?"  said  Cappy  gently. 

Matt  flushed  a  little. 

"Well,  it  does  appear  to  me  kind  of  foolish  for  a  man 
with  an  income  of  more  than  eleven  hundred  dollars  a 
month  to  be  going  to  sea  as  second  mate  of  a  dirty  little 
steam  schooner  at  seventy-five  dollars  a  month." 

"Well,  I  can  hardly  blame  you,"  said  Cappy  gently. 
"I  suppose  I'd  feel  the  same  way  about  it  myself  if  I  stood 
in  your  shoes." 

"I'm  sure  you  would,"  Matt  replied. 

Fell  a  silence,  broken  presently  by  Cappy's : 

"Huh !  Ahem  !  Harump !"  Then :  "When  I  came  in 
from  my  club  last  night,  Matt,  I  believe  Florry  had  a 
caller." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Matt ;  "I  was  there." 

"Huh !  I  got  a  squint  at  you.  Am  I  mistaken  in 
assuming  that  you  were  wearing  a  dress  suit?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Whadja  mean  by  wasting  your  savings   OH  a  dress 


164  v     RICKS 

suit?"  Cappy  exploded.  "Whadja  ir.can  by  courting  my 
Florry,  eh?  Tell  me  that!  Give  you  an  inch  and  you'll 
take  an  ell !  Infernal  young  scoundrel !" 

"Well,"  said  Matt  humbly,  "I  intended  to  speak  to  you 
about  Miss  Florry.  Of  course  now  that  I'm  going  to  live 
ashore — 

"What  can  a  big  lubber  like  you  do  ashore?"  Cappy 
shrilled. 

"Why,  I  might  get  a  job  with  some  shipping  firm ' 

"You  needn't  count  on  a  job  ashore  with  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company,"  Cappy  railed.  "You  needn't 
think " 

"Have  I  your  permission  to  call  on  Miss  Florry  again?" 
Matt  asked  humbly. 

"No!"  thundered  Cappy.  "You're  as  nervy  as  they 
make  'em!  No,  sir!  You'll  go  to  sea  in  the  Gualala  to 
morrow  morning — d'ye  hear?  That's  what  you'll  do!" 

But  Matt  Peasley  shook  his  head. 

"I'm  through  with  the  sea,"  he  said  firmly.  "I  have 
an  income  of  eleven  hundred  dollars  a  month — 

"Oh,  is  that  so?"  Cappy  sneered.  "Well,  for  the  sake 
of  argument,  we'll  admit  you  have  the  income.  WTe  don't 
know  how  long  you'll  have  it ;  but  we'll  credit  your  account 
on  the  books  while  we're  able  to  collect  it  from  the  char 
terers,  and  I  guess  we'll  collect  it  while  the  Unicorn  is 
.afloat.  But  having  an  income  and  being  able  to  spend  it, 
my  boy,  are  two  different  things ;  so  in  order  to  set  your 
mind  at  ease,  let  me  tell  you  something:  I'm  not  going 
to  give  you  a  cent  out  of  that  charter  deal — 

Matt  Peasley  sprang  up,  his  big  body  aquiver  with 
rage. 

"You'd  double-cross  me !"  he  roared.  "Mr.  Ricks,  if  you 
weren't "  He  paused. 


GAPPY  PROVES  A  DESPOT  165 

"Shut  up !"  snapped  Gappy,  undaunted.  "I  know  what 
you're  going  to  say.  If  I  wasn't  an  old  man  I'd  let  you 
make  a  jolly  jackanapes  of  yourself.  Now  listen  to  me! 
I  said  I  wasn't  going  to  let  you  have  a  cent  out  of  that 
charter  deal — and  I  mean  it.  If  you  couldn't  say  Boo! 
from  now  until  the  day  you  finger  a  dollar  of  that  income 
you'd  be  as  dumb  as  an  oyster  by  the  time  I  hand  you  the 
check.  What  do  you  know  about  money?"  he  piped 
shrilly.  "You  big,  overgrown  baby !  Yah  !  You've  had 
a  little  taste  of  business  and  turned  a  neat  deal,  and  now 
you  think  you're  a  wonder,  don't  you?  Like  everybody 
else,  you'll  keep  on  thinking  it  until  some  smart  fellow 
takes  it  all  away  from  you  again ;  so,  in  order  to  cure  you, 
I'm  not  going  to  let  you  have  it !" 

"I'll  sue  you " 

"You  can  sue  your  head  off,  young  man,  and  see  how 
much  good  it  will  do  you.  You  surrendered  to  me  your 
option  that  Hudner  gave  you  on  the  Unicorn,  and  you 
failed  to  procure  from  me  in  writing  an  understanding  of 
the  agreement  between  us  regarding  this  split.  You 
haven't  a  leg  to  stand  on!" 

Matt  Peasley  hung  his  head. 

"I  didn't  think  I  had  to  take  business  precautions  with 
you,  sir,"  he  said. 

"You  should  take  business  precautions  with  anybody 
and  everybody." 

"I  thought  I  was  dealing  with  a  man  of  honor.  Every 
body  has  always  told  me  that  Gappy  Ricks' " 

"How  dare  you  call  me  Gappy?" 

" — word  was  as  good  as  his  bond." 

"And  so  it  is,  my  boy.  You'll  get  your  money,  but 
you'll  wait  for  it ;  and  meantime  I'll  invest  it  for  you.  As 
I  said  before,  you've  had  a  taste  of  business  and  found  it 


i66  GAPPY    RICKS 

pretty  sweet — so  sweet,  in  fact,  that  you  think  you're  a 
business  man.  Well,  hereafter  you'll  remember,  when 
you're  making  a  contract  with  anybody,  to  get  it  down 
in  black  and  white;  and  then  you'll  have  something  to 
fight  about  if  you're  not  satisfied.  Now,  by  the  time 
you're  skipper  of  steam  you'll  be  worth  a  nice  little  pile 
of  money ;  you  can  buy  a  piece  of  the  big  freighter  I'm 
going  to  build  for  you  and  it'll  pay  you  thirty  per  cent. 
Remember,  Matt,  I  always  make  my  skippers  own  a  piece 
of  the  vessel  they  command.  That  gives  'em  an  interest 
in  their  job  and  they  don't  waste  their  owner's  money." 

"I  won't  be  dictated  to !"  Matt  cried  desperately.  "I'm 
free,  white  and " 

"Twenty-three!"  jeered  Gappy.  "You  big,  awkward 
pup !  How  dare  you  growl  at  me !  I  know  what's  good 
for  you.  You  go  to  sea  on  the  Gualala." 

"I  must  decline " 

"Oh,  all  right!  Have  it  your  own  way,"  said  Gappy. 
"But,  at  the  rate  you've  been  blowing  your  money  in  on 
Florry  for  the  past  two  weeks,  I'll  bet  your  wad  has 
dwindled  since  you  struck  town.  I've  put  that  thousand 
dollars  out  on  mortgage  for  you,  and  Skinner  has  the 
mortgage  in  the  company  safe,  where  you  can't  get  at 
it  to  hock  it  when  your  last  dollar  is  gone.  And  he  has 
the  bond  there  too ;  so  it  does  appear  to  me,  Matt,  that  if 
you  want  any  money  to  spend  you'll  have  to  get  a  job  and 
earn  it.  I  have  the  bulge  on  you,  young  fellow,  and  don't 
you  forget  it!" 

Matt  Peasley  rose,  walked  to  the  window  and  stood 
looking  down  into  California  Street.  He  was  so  mad  there 
were  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  he  longed  to  say  things  to 
Gappy  Ricks — only,  for  the  sake  of  Miss  Florence  Ricks, 
he  could  not  abuse  her  sire.  Once  he  half  turned,  only  to 


GAPPY  PROVES  A  DESPOT  167 

meet  Cappy's  glittering  e3Tes  fixed  on  him  with  c  steadliness 
of  purpose  that  argued  only  too  well  the  fact  that  the 
old  man  could  not  be  bluffed,  cajoled,  bribed  01  impressed. 

Presently  Matt  Peasley  turned  from  the  window. 

"Where  does  the  Gualala  lie,  sir?"  he  asked  gruffly. 

"Howard  Street  Wharf,  Number  One,  Matt,"  Gappy  re 
plied  cheerfully.  "I  think  she  had  bedbugs  in  her  cabin, 
but  I'm  not  sure.  I  wouldn't  go  within  a  block  of  her 
myself." 

Matt  gazed  sorrowfully  at  the  rug.  Toe  well  he  real 
ized  that  Gappy  had  the  whip  hand  and  was  fully  ca 
pable  of  cracking  the  whip ;  so  presently  he  said : 

"Well,  I've  met  bedbugs  before,  Mr.  Ricks.  I'll  go 
aboard  in  the  morning." 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  Matt.  And  another  thing:  I  like 
you,  Matt,  but  not  well  enough  for  a  son-in-law.  Re 
member,  my  boy,  you're  only  a  sailor  on  a  steam  schooner 
now — so  it  won't  be  necessary  for  you  to  look  aloft.  You 
understand,  do  you  not?  You  want  to  remember  your 
position,  my  boy." 

Matt  turned  and  bent  upon  Gappy  a  slow,  smoulder 
ing  gaze.  Cappjr  almost  quivered.  Then  slowly  the  rage 
died  out  in  Matt  Peasley's  fine  eyes  and  a  lilting,  boyish 
grin  spread  over  his  face,  for  he  was  one  of  those  rare 
human  beings  who  can  smile,  no  matter  what  the  prospect, 
once  he  has  definitely  committed  himself  to  a  definite 
course  of  action.  Only  the  years  of  discipline  and  his 
innate  respect  for  gray  hairs  kept  him  from  bluntly  in 
forming  Gappy  Ricks  that  he  might  forthwith  proceed  to 
chase  himself !  Instead  he  said  quietly : 

"Very  well,  sir.     Good-afternoon." 

"Good  afternoon,  sir,"  snapped  Gappy. 

At  the  door  Matt  paused  an  instant,  for  he  was  young 


1 68  CAPPY   RICKS 

and  he  could  not  retire  without  firing  a  shot.  He  fired  :t 
now  with  his  eyes — a  glance  of  cool  disdain  and  defiance 
that  would  have  been  worth  a  dollar  of  anybody's  money 
to  see.  Cappy  had  to  do  something  to  keep  from  Jaugh- 
ing. 

"Out,  you  rebel!"  he  yelled.  The  door  closed  with  a 
crash,  and  Cappy  Ricks  took  down  the  telephone  receiver 
and  called  up  his  daughter. 

"Florry,"  he  said  gently,  "I  want  to  tell  you  some 
thing." 

"Fire  away,  Pop !"  she  challenged. 

"It's  about  that  fellow  Peasley,"  Cappy  replied  coldly. 
"I  wish  you  wouldn't  have  that  big,  awkward  dub  calling 
at  the  house,  Florry.  He'll  fall  over  the  furniture  the 
first  thing  you  know,  and  do  some  damage.  I  think  a  lot 
of  him  as  a  sailor,  but  that's  about  as  far  as  my  affection 
extends ;  and  if  you  insist  on  having  him  call  at  the  house, 
my  dear,  my  authority  over  him  as  an  employee  will 
suffer  and  I'll  be  forced  to  fire  the  fellow.  Of  course  I 
realize  what  a  pleasant  boy  he  is ;  but  then  you  don't  know 
sailors  like  I  do.  They're  a  low  lot  at  heart,  Florry,  and 
this  fellow  Peasley  is  no  exception  to  the  general  rule." 

Cappy  paused  to  test  the  effect  of  this  broadside.  There 
was  a  little  gasp  from  the  other  end  of  the  wire ;  then  a 
click  as  his  daughter  hung  up,  too  outraged  to  reply. 

Cappy's  kindly  e}'es  twinkled  merrily  as  he  replaced  the 
receiver  on  the  hook. 

"What  a  skookum  son-in-law  to  take  up  the  business 
when  I  let  go!"  he  murmured  happily.  "Oh,  Matt,  I'm 
so  blamed  sorry  for  you;  but  it's  just  got  to  be  done. 
If  you're  going  to  build  up  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company  after  the  Panama  Canal  is  opened  for  business, 
you've  got  to  know  shipping;  and  to  know  it  from  center 


CAPPY  PROVES  A  DESPOT  169 

to  circumference.  It  isn't  sufficient  that  you  be  master 
of  sail  and  steam,  any  ocean,  any  tonnage.  You've  got 
to  learn  the  business  from  the  rules  as  promulgated  by 
little  old  Alden  P.  Ricks,  the  slave  driver.  There's  hope 
for  you,  sonny.  You  have  already  learned  to  obey." 

Mr.  Skinner  bustled  in  with  the  mail. 

"Skinner,"  said  Gappy  plaintively,  "what's  the  best  way 
to  drive  obstinate  people  south?" 

"Head  them  north,"  said  Mr.  Skinner. 

"I'm  doing  it,"  said  Gappy  dreamily. 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

MATT    PEA8LEY    IN    EXILE 

FKOM  Cappy  Ricks'  office  Matt  Pcasley  went  to  the 
rooms  of  the  American  Shipmaster's  Association,  entered 
the  telephone  booth  and  called  up  Florence  Ricks.  From 
the  instant  he  first  laid  eyes  on  her,  Miss  Florry  had  oc 
cupied  practically  all  of  Matt's  thoughts  during  every 
waking  hour.  He  had  assayed  her  and  appraised  her  a 
hundred  times  and  from  every  possible  angle,  and  each 
time  he  decided  that  Florry  was  possessed  of  more  than 
sufficient  charm,  good  looks,  sweetness  and  intelligence  to 
suit  the  most  exacting.  Matt  wasn't  ultra-exacting  and 
she  suited  him,  and  the  fact  that  she  was  the  sole  heir 
to  millions  was  the  least  of  the  sailor's  considerations  as 
he  dropped  his  nickel  down  the  slot.  Neither  did  the 
identity  of  the  }Toung  lady's  paternal  ancestor  constitute 
a  problem,  despite  the  recent  interview  with  that  variable 
individual.  Matt  regarded  Cappy  somewhat  in  the  light 
of  a  mixed  blessing;  while  he  respected  him  he  was  a  little 
bit  afraid  of  him,  and  just  at  present  he  disliked  him  ex 
ceedingly.  And  lastly,  his  own  social  and  economic  status 
as  second  mate  of  the  most  wretched  little  steam  schooner 
in  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company's  fleet,  failed  to 
enter  even  remotely  into  Matt's  scheme  of  things. 

The  reason  for  this  mental  stand  on  his  part  was  a 
perfectly  simple  and  natural  one.  To  begin,  he  was  a 
stranger  to  caste  other  than  that  of  decent  manhood. 

170 


MATT  PEASLEY  IN  EXILE  171 

The  only  rank  he  had  ever  known  was  that  of  a 
ship's  officer,  and  that  was  merely  a  condition  of  servitude. 
When  ashore  he  regarded  himself  as  the  equal  of  any  mon 
arch  under  heaven  and  treated  all  men  accordingly.  Since 
he  had  never  known  any  of  the  restrictions  of  polite  con 
ventions  behind  which  society  intrenches  itself  in  the 
world  occupied  by  such  pampered  pets  of  fortune  as  Miss 
Florence  Ricks,  Matt  Peasley  failed  to  see  a  single  sound 
reason  why  he  should  not  indulge  a  very  natural  desire 
for  Cappy's  ewe  lamb — for  a  singularly  direct  and  force 
ful  individual  was  Matthew.  It  was  his  creed  to  take  what 
he  could  get  away  with,  provided  that  in  the  taking  he 
broke  no  moral,  legal  or  ethical  code ;  and  if  any  thought 
of  the  apparent  incongruity  of  a  sailor's  aspiring  to  the 
hand  of  a  millionaire  shipowner's  daughter  had  occurred 
to  him — which,  by  the  way,  it  had  not — he  would  doubt 
less  have  analyzed  it  thusly: 

"There  she  is.  Isn't  she  a  queen?  I  want  her  and  there 
isn't  a  single  reason  on  earth  why  I  shouldn't  have  her, 
unless  it  be  that  she  doesn't  want  me.  However,  I'll  learn 
all  about  that  when  I  get  good  and  ready,  and  if  I'm  ac 
ceptable  Cappy  Ricks  and  one  of  his  employees  are  going 
to  have  a  warm  debate — subject,  matrimony.  What  do 
I  care  for  him?  He's  only  her  father,  and  I'll  bet  he 
wasn't  half  so  well  fixed  as  I  am  when  he  got  married.  I'll 
just  play  the  game  like  a  white  man,  and  if  Cappy  doesn't 
like  it  he'll  have  to  get  over  it." 

"Miss  Florence,"  Matt  began,  "this  is  Matt." 

"Matt  who?"  she  queried  with  provoking  assumption 
of  innocence. 

"Door  Mat,"  he  replied.  "Your  daddy  has  just  walkecl 
fell  over  me  at  any  rate." 

"Oh,   good   morning,    captain.      Why,   what  has  hag- 


172  CAPPY  RICKS 

pened?    Your  voice  sounds  like  the  growl  of  a  big  bear." 

"I  suppose  so.  I'm  hopping  mad.  The  very  first  day 
I  was  ashore  I  turned  a  nice  little  trick  for  your  father. 
I  wasn't  on  the  pay  roll  at  the  time,  so  we  went  into  the 
deal  together  and  chartered  the  Lion  and  the  Unicorn  to 
freight  ore  for  the  Mannheim  people  from  Alaska  to  Seat 
tle.  I  furnished  the  valuable  information  and  the  bright 
idea,  and  he  capitalized  both.  The  result  of  the  deal  was 
that  he  has  his  own  steamer,  the  Lion,  off  his  hands  for 
four  years,  chartered  at  a  fancy  figure.  Also  he  chartered 
the  Unicorn  from  her  owner  at  a  cheap  rate  and  rechart- 
cred  at  an  advance  of  seventy-five  dollars  a  day,  and  we 
split  that  profit  between  us.  That  gives  me  an  income  of 
thirty-seven  and  a  half  a  day  for  the  next  four  years, 
provided  the  Unicorn  doesn't  get  wrecked.  Naturally  I 
wanted  to  stay  ashore,  when  there's  money  to  be  made  as 
easy  as  that — and  he  won't  let  me." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,  captain." 

"Well,  that  helps." 

"You  do  not  have  to  go  to  sea,  do  you?"  Miss  Ricks 
queried  hopefully. 

"Yes,  Miss  Florry,  I  do;  that's  what  hurts.  Your 
father  induced  me  to  invest  all  of  my  savings  in  a  mortgage 
and  a  bond,  and  he  has  both  locked  up  in  the  Blue  Star 
safe  with  that  ogre  Skinner  in  charge,  so  I  can't  get  them 
to  realize  on.  Of  course  I  could  go  to  law  and  make  him 
give  them  to  me,  but  he  knows  I'll  not  do  that,  so  he  just 
sits  there  and  defies  me.  And  I  neglected  to  take  the 
proper  business  precautions  about  my  daily  income  from 
the  charter  of  the  Unicorn,  and  because  I  cannot  prove 
I  have  a  diwy  coming  on  that  he  says  he  won't  give  me  a 
cent  of  it.  He  says  he'll  credit  my  account  on  the  com 
pany's  books,  and  when  the  Unicorn  completes  her  charter 


MATT  PEASLEY  IN  EXILE  173 

he'll  give  it  to  me  in  a  lump.  In  the  meantime  he's  going 
to  invest  it  for  me,  and  without  consulting  me." 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  Miss  Ricks  sympathetically.  "I'm  so 
sorry  dad's  such  a  busybody." 

"You're  not  half  so  sorry  as  I  am.  I'm  flat  broke, 
and  in  order  to  eat  I  have  to  go  to  work,  and  in  order 
to  go  to  work  I  have  to  get  a  job,  and  in  order  to  get 
the  job  I  have  to  take  what  your  father  offers  me — in 
fact,  insists  upon  my  taking.  You  see,  Miss  Florry,  I'm 
almost  a  stranger  in  Pacific  shipping.  I  don't  know  any 
owners  except  your  father  and  I've  never  had  any  coast 
wise  experience.  It  might  be  years  before  I  could  get 
another  job  as  master  of  a  sailing  ship,  and  most  steam 
ship  captains  prefer  to  let  some  other  captains  break  in 
their  mates  for  them.  So  you  see  I'm  helpless." 

A  silence.  Then :  "I'm  going  to  sea  in  the  Gualala  to 
morrow  morning,  Florry." 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  dropped  the  "Miss,"  but 
he  dropped  it  purposely  now.  Miss  Ricks  noticed  the 
omission,  which  probably  imbued  her  with  the  courage 
to  voice  again  her  excess  of  sympathy.  Said  she:  "Oil, 
I'm  so  sorry,  Matt!" 

He  thrilled  at  that.  "Well,"  he  answered  humorously, 
"for  the  first  time  I'm  glad  I'm  not  a  captain  any  more !" 

Followed  another  brief  silence,  while  Florry  groped 
for  the  hidden  meaning  behind  that  subtle  retort ;  then  he 
continued:  "Your  father  thinks  I  was  a  little  presumpt 
uous  in  calling  at  the  house.  He  spoke  to  me  about  it, 
Florry,  so  I'm  not  going  to  call  any  more  until  he  in 
vites  me.  It's  his  house,  you  know.  But  he  didn't  say 
anything  about  not  telephoning  to  you  or  seeing  you  out 
side  his  confounded  house,  so  I  suppose  there's  no  necessity 
for  me  feeling  badly  about  it,  is  there?" 


174  CAPPY    RICKS 

This  was  a  pretty  direct  feeler,  but  Florry  parried  it 
with  feminine  skill. 

"Of  course  you  can  telephone  me  whenever  you  get  to 
port.  You  musn't  take  dad  too  seriously,  Matt.  Really 
he's  very  fond  of  you." 

"Professionally,  yes.  Socially,  no.  I  think  he  wants 
to  give  me  a  good  chance  to  do  something  for  myself  in  a 
business  way  later  on,  but  he  made  it  pretty  plain  that 
he  is  the  only  member  of  the  Ricks  family  I'm  to  take 
seriously.  Of  course  I  expect  to  have  something  to  say 
about  that  myself,  Florry,  but  I  didn't  tell  him  so.  He's 
your  father,  you  know,  and  besides,  a  man  can't  make  a 
very  good  showing  on  seventy-five  dollars  a  month.  But 
if  the  Unicorn  lives  to  complete  her  charter  I'll  be  up  on 
Easy  Street,  even  if  I'll  only  be  a  plain  sea  captain  when 
I  come  into  that  money.  Of  course  now  I'm  only  a  sec 
ond  mate  on  the  worst  little  steam  schooner  your  father 
owns  and  I  cannot  say  the  things  I  want  to  say — I  don't 
mean  to  your  father,  Florry,  but  to  you — 

"But  you're  a  captain  now,"  Florry  interrupted,  in 
delicious  terror  hastening  to  obstruct  any  further  dis 
cussion  of  what  a  seventy-five  dollar  man  might  have  to 
say  were  he  but  in  position  to  say  it.  "Why  should  you 
go  to  work  as  a  second  mate " 

"I've  been  a  captain  of  sail,  Florry.  Of  course,  if  I 
had  never  been  master  of  a  vessel  of  more  than  five  hun 
dred  tons  net  register,  or  my  sailing  license  had  been 
limited  to  vessels  of  that  tonnage,  I  should  have  to  work  up 
from  second  mate  to  master  in  steam.  But  any  man  who 
has  been  master  of  a  vessel  of  more  than  five  hundred 
tons  net  register  for  more  than  one  year  is  entitled  to 
apply  for  a  license  as  master  of  steam  vessels,  and  if  he 
can  pass  the  examination  he  can  get  his  license." 


MATT  PEASLEY  IN  EXILE  175 

"Then  why  don't  you  do  that,  Matt  ?"  Florry  inquired. 

"I  have.  The  idea  of  two  years'  probation  as  second 
and  first  mate  didn't  appeal  to  me,  so  while  I  w§s  waiting 
round  to  join  the  Gualala  I  went  up  for  my  ticket  as 
master  of  steam.  I  passed,  but  when  I  told  your  father 
I  had  a  license  to  command  the  largest  steam  freighter  he 
owns,  he  only  laughed  at  me  and  told  me  the  inspectors 
weren't  running  his  business  for  him.  Just  because  I'm 
not  twenty-three  years  old  he  says  I  ought  to  have  two 
years'  experience  in  steam  as  mate  before  he  gives  me 
command  of  a  vessel.  He  says  I'd  better  learn  the  Pacific 
Coast  like  he  knows  his  front  lawn,  or  some  foggy  night 
I'll  walk  my  vessel  overland  and  the  inspectors  will  set 
me  down  for  a  couple  of  years." 

"Well,  that  sounds  reasonable,  Matt." 

"Yes,  I'll  admit  there's  some  justice  in  his  contention, 
so  I'm  going  to  do  it  to  please  him,  although  I  hate 
to  have  him  think  I'm  a  dog-barking  navigator." 

"Why,  what's  that?"  Florry  demanded. 

"A  dog-barking  navigator  is  a  coastwise  blockhead  that 
gets  lost  if  he  loses  sight  of  land.  He  steers  a  course 
from  headland  to  headland,  and  every  little  while  on  dark 
nights  he  stands  in  close  and  listens.  Pretty  soon  he 
hears  a  dog  barking  alongshore.  'All  right,'  he  says  to 
the  mate ;  'we're  off  Point  Montara.  I  know  that  New 
foundland  dog's  barking.  He's  the  only  one  on  the  coast. 
Haul  her  off  and  hold  her  before  the  wind  for  four  hours 
and  then  stand  in  again.  When  you  pick  up  the  bark  of 
a  foxhound  you'll  be  off  Pigeon  Point.' ' 

Florry's  laughter  drowned  a  further  description  of  the 
dog-barking  navigator's  wonderful  knowledge  of  Pacific 
Coast  canines,  and  after  some  small  talk  Matt  said  good 
bye  and  hung  up.  When  he  left  the  telephone  booth. 


176  CAPPY    RICKS 

however,  he  was  a  happier  young  man  than  when  he  had 
entered  it,  for  he  had  now  satisfied  himself  that  while 
Cappy  Ricks  might  arrogate  to  himself  the  right  of  pro 
posing,  his  daughter  could  be  depended  upon  to  attend  to 
the  disposing.  He  went  to  his  boarding  house,  paid  his 
landlady,  packed  his  clothes  and  sent  them  down  to  the 
Gualala,  rubbing  her  blistered  sides  against  Howard  Street 
Pier  No.  1.  At  seven  o'clock  next  morning  he  was  aboard 
her  and  at  seven-five  he  superintended  the  casting  off  of 
the  stern  lines  and  his  apprenticeship  in  steam  had  com 
menced. 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

PROMOTION 

GAPPY  RICKS  was  in  a  fine  rage.  A  situation,  unique 
in  his  forty  years  of  experience  as  a  lumber  and  shipping 
magnate,  was  confronting  him,  with  the  prospects  exceed 
ingly  bright  for  Gappy  playing  a  role  analogous  to  that 
of  the  simpleton  who  holds  the  sack  on  a  snipe-hunting 
expedition.  He  summoned  Mr.  Skinner  into  his  private 
office,  and  glared  at  the  latter  over  the  rims  of  his 
spectacles.  "Skinner,"  he  said  solemnly,  "there's  the  very 
devil  to  pay." 

Mr.  Skinner  arched  his  eyebrows  and  inclined  a 
respectful  ear.  Gappy  continued: 

"It's  about  the  Hermosa.  Skinner,  that  dog-barking 
navigator  you  put  in  that  schooner  while  I  was  on  my 
vacation  has  balled  us  up  for  fair.  I'll  be  the  laughing 
stock  of  the  street." 

Parenthetically  it  may  be  stated  that  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company's  schooner,  Hermosa,  had  cleared 
from  Astoria  for  Valparaiso  with  a  cargo  of  railroad  ties, 
and,  for  some  reason  which  the  captain  could  not  explain 
but  which  Gappy  Ricks  could,  the  unfortunate  man  had 
become  lost  at  sea,  finally  ending  his  voyage  on  a  reef 
on  one  of  the  Samoan  Islands.  The  Hermosa  had  been 
listed  as  missing  and  her  owners  had  been  on  the  point 
of  receiving  a  check  for  the  insurance  on  the  vessel  and 
her  cargo  when  an  Australian  steamer  brought  news  of 

177 


178  GAPPY    RICKS 

her  predicament  in  Samoa.  Her  captain  sent  word  that 
she  was  resting  easily  and  that  he  would  get  her  off.  Sub 
sequently,  Cappy  learned  that  his  dog-barking  skipper  had 
discharged  his  cargo  of  railroad  ties  on  barges,  in  order 
to  lighten  the  vessel  and  float  her  off  with  the  aid  of  a 
launch.  Unfortunately,  however,  he  discovered  a  huge 
hole  in  her  garboard,  and  before  he  could  patch  it  an 
extra  high  tide  lifted  the  vessel  over  the  reef  and  sunk 
her  forty  fathoms  deep  in  a  place  where  nobody  could 
ever  get  at  her  again. 

"Yes,  sir,"  Cappy  complained.  "I'll  be  the  laughing 
stock  of  the  street.  Here's  a  letter  from  the  insurance 
people,  inclosing  a  check  for  a  total  loss  on  the  vessel, 
but  they  repudiate  payment  of  the  insurance  on  the 
cargo." 

"Why?"  demanded  the  amazed  Skinner.  "They  insured 
those  ties  for  delivery  at  Callao.  They  can't  get  out  of 
it." 

"I'll  bet  they  can,"  Cappy  shrilled.  "I've  just  called 
up  the  Board  of  Underwriters  and  they  say  the  cargo 
hasn't  been  lost.  They  say  nothing  is  lost  if  you  know 
where  it  is,  and  the  ties  are  on  the  beach  in  Samoa  await 
ing  our  pleasure.  Skinner,  call  up  our  attorneys  at  once 
and  tell  them  to  enter  suit." 

"I  was  just  about  to  call  them  up  on  another  matter," 
Mr.  Skinner  replied.  "As  secretary  of  the  Blue  Star  Nav 
igation  Company  I  have  just  been  served  with  a  summons 
in  another  suit,  entered  against  the  Quickstep." 

"What  in  the  fiend's  name  is  the  matter  with  that  in 
fernal  Quickstep?  This  is  the  third  suit  we've  had  in 
two  years.  Skinner,  what  is  wrong  with  that  steam 
schooner  ?" 

"She  must  be  hoodooed,  Mr.  Ricks." 


PROMO  TIUJN  179 

"Another  seaman  injured  by  being  hit  with  a  cargo 
block  or  having  a  piece  of  eight-by-eight  drop  on  his  foot, 
I  suppose." 

"Not  this  time,  Mr.  Ricks.  One  Halvor  Jacobsen  has 
sued  the  Quickstep  and  owners  for  five  thousand  dollars 
for  injuries  alleged  to  have  been  inflicted  upon  him  by 
the  captain." 

"So  that  Captain  Kjellin  has  been  fighting  again,  eh? 
Skinner,  that  man  is  too  handy  with  his  fists,  I  tell  you. 
He's  another  one  of  your  favorites,  by  the  way.  I  only 
put  that  fellow  in  the  Quickstep  to  please  you." 

"We  haven't  a  better  man  in  our  employ,"  Mr.  Skinner 
asserted  stoutly.  "He  carries  larger  cargoes  and  makes 
faster  time  than  any  steam-schooner  captain  in  our  ves 
sels  of  similar  carrying  capacity.  He's  a  dividend  pro 
ducer,  Mr.  Ricks,  and  he  is  very  efficient." 

"Don't  talk  to  me  of  efficiency,"  Cappy  snarled. 
"What's  the  sense  rushing  the  vessel  round  Robin  Hood's 
barn  to  make  dividends,  if  we  lose  them  in  lawsuits?" 

"His  vessel  didn't  lay  up  during  the  strike  of  the  Water 
front  Federation  in  1903,"  Skinner  challenged.  "You 
bet  she  didn't!  Kjellin  rustled  up  a  scab  crew  and  kept 
the  mob  off  the  vessel  at  the  point  of  a  gun.  I  understand 
he's  a  bit  short-tempered,  but  while  there  are  ships  with 
red-blooded  men  in  them,  Mr.  Ricks,  we  must  expect  the 
men  to  pull  off  a  couple  of  rounds  with  skin  gloves  every 
so  often." 

Cappy  looked  over  the  rims  of  his  spectacles  at  Mr. 
Skinner.  "Skinner,"  he  said  impressively,  "listen  to  me: 
This  is  the  last  suit  that's  going  to  be  entered  against  the 
Quickstep.  Was  that  man  Halvor  Jacobsen  who  is  suing 
us  second  mate  on  the  Quickstep?" 

"Yes,  sir." 


i8o  CAPPY    RICKS 

"I  knew  it,"  Cappy  shrilled  triumphantly.  "Skinner, 
with  all  your  efficiency  ideas,  you  fail  to  see  anything  re 
markable  in  that  fact.  Now  don't  tell  me  you  do,  because 
I  know  you  do  not.  This  is  the  third  suit  since  Kjellin 
took  charge,  and  that's  proof  enough  for  me  that  there's 
something  wrong  with  that  big  Finn.  Those  other  two 
suits  were  for  injuries  received  by  men  loading  cargo  in 
the  after  hold.  The  after  hold  is  presided  over  by  the 
second  mate."  Cappy  waved  his  hands.  "Huh !"  he  said. 
"Simple !" 

**I  believe  I  comprehend,"  Mr.  Skinner  admitted.  "But 
what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  We  can  scarcely  dis 
charge  Kjellin  without  a  hearing  and  without  proof  that 
he  is  to  blame." 

"What  am  I  going  to  do  about  it?"  Cappy  echoed. 
"Why,  I'm  going  to  send  a  judge  and  a  jury  aboard  the 
Quickstep,  try  this  Finn,  Kjellin,  and  if  he's  guilty  of 
dereliction  of  duty  I'll  bet  you  a  plug  hat  to  one  small 
five-cent  bag  of  smoking  tobacco  I'll  know  all  about  it  in 
side  of  a  week." 

"Do  yc^u  mean  to  put  a  secret-service  operative  aboard 
disguised  as  a  deckhand?" 

"Huh!  Skinner,  you  distress  me.  I'm  going  to  put 
Matt  Pensley  aboard  the  Quickstep  as  second  mate,  arid 
let  Nature  take  its  course." 

"I  wouldn't  do  that  if  I  were  you,  sir,"  Mr.  Skinner 
advised.  "That  rowdy  Peasley  and  a  man  like  Kjellin 
will  not  get  along  together  for  one  voyage;  then  Kjellin 
will  fire  him,  and  first  thing  you  know  you'll  be  groping 
around  in  the  dark  again." 

"Oh,  I  know  this  Finn  is  a  pet  of  yours,"  Cappy  re 
torted  acidly,  "but  Matt  Peasley  is  a  pet  of  mine.  If  we 
put  them  together  in  the  same  ship  maybe  we'll  have  one 


PROMOTION  181 

of  those  skin-glove  contests  you  referred  to  a  minute  ago, 
but  between  their  mutual  recriminations  you  can  bet  your 
hopes  of  Heaven  I'll  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  truth  and 
act  accordingly.  Matt  will  not  tell  a  lie,  Skinner.  Re-. 
member  that." 

"Neither  will  Kjellin,"  Skinner  declared  with  equal 
warmth. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  whether  he  will  or  not.  However, 
that's  beside  the  question.  Where  is  the  Florence  Ricks  ?" 

"Sailed  from  San  Pedro  at  noon  yesterday." 

"Where  is  the  Quickstep?" 

"Sailed  from  Eureka  to  load  shingles  last  night." 

"Good.  Wireless  the  master  of  the  Florence  to  pro 
vide  himself  with  a  new  second  mate.  That  will  give  him 
time  to  wireless  ahead  and  have  one  waiting  for  him  when 
the  vessel  touches  in  to  discharge  passengers  from  the 
south.  Tell  him  to  inform  Peasley  he  isn't  fired,  but  just 
transferred.  Attend  to  it,  Skinner." 

While  Mr.  Skinner  departed  to  carry  out  Cappy's 
order,  the  old  gentleman  called  up  Harbor  15,  Masters' 
and  Pilot's'  Association,  and  asked  for  the  secretary. 

"Ricks  of  the  Blue  Star  speaking,"  he  announced 
crisply.  "Been  furnishing  many  second  mates  to  the 
Quickstep  lately?" 

"Why,  yes,  Mr.  Ricks.  Kjellin  wires  for  a  new  sec 
ond  mate  quite  frequently.  They  don't  seem  to  stay  with 
him  more  than  a  voyage  or  two.  He's  quite  a  driver,  you 
know,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"I  know,"  Cappy  replied  grimly.  "The  next  time  he 
wires  in  to  have  a  second  mate  join  the  ship  when  he 
touches  in  here,  you  might  be  good  enough  to  call  me  up. 
I  have  a  skookum  young  second  mate  in  the  Florence  Ricks 
that  I'm  training  for  a  captain,  and  I  want  to  switch  him 


CAPPY    RICKS 

in  on  the  Humboldt  Bay  run  for  the  sake  of  the  experience. 
And,  of  course,  you  know  how  it  is  with  masters — they  like 
to  think  they're  selecting  their  own  mates,  and  always  re 
sent  any  interference  from  their  owners.  And  if  you  do 
ask  them  to  take  a  certain  mate  they're  apt  to  suspect 
he's  a  spy  from  the  office,  and — well,  you  understand.  I'd 
prefer  to  have  this  lad  I  have  in  mind  go  aboard  as  if  you 
had  sent  him." 

"I  understand,  Mr.  Ricks.     I'll  let  you  know  the  first 
ticae  Kjellin  wires  in." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

CAPPY    HAS    A    HEART 

Sf'Well,  Matt,"  said  Gappy  Ricks,  cheerfully,  as  he 
shook  hands  with  the  late  second  mate  of  the  Florence 
Ricks.  "We  don't  see  much  of  each  other  now  that  you're 
a  mate.  But  don't  worry,  you'll  be  a  master  again,  and 
then  you'll  be  dropping  in  here  a  couple  of  times  a  month 
pestering  me  for  a  lot  of  things  for  your  ship  that  you 
could  probably  get  along  without.  You're  looking  fit, 
my  boy." 

"I'm  feeling  fit,  sir,"  Matt  replied,  grinning. 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  was  Cappy's  grim  reply.  "Hum  ! 
Harump-h-h-h !  Let  me  see  now.  You've  had  your  course 
in  the  Mendocino  dog-holes,  and  that's  over.  I  hope  you 
learned  something.  You've  run  for  seven  months  from 
all  the  Washington  and  Oregon  ports  to  Southern  Cali 
fornia,  and — er — that's  very  nice.  But  you  haven't  been 
over  Humboldt  Bar  yet,  have  you?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Then  you  have  something  coming.  Quite  a  bar  in  the 
winter  time,  Matt,  quite  a  bar !  Good  many  tickets  been 
lost  on  that  bar,  Matt,  so  you  ought  to  have  more  than 
a  nodding  acquaintance  with  it.  You're  going  second 
mate  in  the  Quickstep.  She's  carrying  redwood  shingles 
from  Eureka  to  the  Shingle  Association's  air-drying  yards 
up  river  at  Los  Medanos  at  present,  and  she'll  get  to  Los 
Medanos  Sunday  afternoon,  so  you'd  better  get  there 

183 


1 84  GAPPY    RICKS 

about  the  same  time,  in  order  to  turn  to  discharging  bright 
and  early  Monday  morning.  And  you'll  have  to  step 
lively,  Matt.  The  Quickstep  lives  up  to  her  name,  and 
the  way  they  put  shingles  into  that  vessel  is  a  scandal." 

"Shingles  are  nice  stuff  to  handle,"  Matt  ventured. 

"Not  redwood  shingles,  Matt.  All  right  after  they're 
dry,  but  when  they  come  fresh  from  the  saws  they  bleed  a 
little,  so  be  sure  and  wear  gloves  when  you  handle  them. 
If  you  have  a  cut  on  your  hand  that  redwood  sap  may 
poison  you.  I  think  you'll  like  the  Quickstep,  Matt." 

"It  doesn't  matter  whether  I  do  or  not,"  Matt  replied 
humorously.  "You  always  do  things  for  me  without  con 
sulting  me  anyhow." 

"Why,  you  don't  mind,  do  you,  my  boy?  It's  all  for 
your  own  good." 

"I  can  bear  it,  sir,  because  one  of  these  bright  days 
I'm  going  to  do  something  without  consulting  you." 

Cappy  favored  him  with  a  sharp  glance.  "As  the  street' 
boys  say,"  he  flashed  back,  "  'I  get  you,  Steve !' ' 

"And  having  gotten  me,  Mr.  Hicks,  do  you  still  want 
me  in  your  employ?" 

"Oh,  certainly,  certainly.  Any  time  I  want  to  get  rid 
of  you  I'll  fire  you  or  have  Skinner  do  it  for  me." 

Matt  looked  at  his  watch  and  rose.  "I  have  four  days' 
shore  leave  before  me,  sir,"  he  said,  "so  I  guess  I'll  be 
trotting  along  and  make  the  most  of  it.  I'll  be  at  Los 
Medanos  Sunday  night." 

"Her  skipper's  a  big  Finn,"  Cappy  warned  him.  "Be 
have  yourself,  Matt.  He's  bad  medicine  for  young  second 
mates." 

"I'll  do  my  duty,  sir." 

He  took  his  leave.  As  he  went  out  the  door  Cappy 
gazed  after  him  with  twinkling  eyes :  "Young  scoundrel !" 


CAPPY  HAS  A  HEART  185 

Ke  murmured.  "Damned  young  scoundrel!  You'll  be 
ringing  Florry  up  the  minute  you  leave  this  office,  if  you 
haven't  already  done  it.  I'm  onto  you,  young  fellow !" 

Matt  Peasley  took  Florry  Ricks  to  a  matinee  that  very 
Bay.  Cappy,  suspecting  he  might  attempt  something  of 
i  the  sort  and  desiring  to  verify  his  suspicions,  went  home 
from  the  office  early  that  day,  and  from  his  hiding  place 
behind  the  window  drapes  in  his  drawing  room  he  ob 
served  a  taxicab  draw  up  in  front  of  his  residence  at  six 
o'clock.  From  this  vehicle  Matt  Peasley,  astonishingly 
well  tailored,  alighted,  handed  out  the  heir  to  the  Ricks 
millions,  said  good-by  lingeringly  and  drove  away. 

"Well,"  Cappy  soliloquized,  "I  guess  I'm  going  to  land 
the  son-in-law  I'm  after.  The  matinee  is  over  at  a  quar 
ter  of  five,  and  those  two  have  fooled  away  an  hour.  I'll 
bet  a  dollar  Florry  steered  that  sailor  into  a  tea  fight 
somewhere,  and  if  she  did  that,  Matt,  you're  a  tip-top  risk 
and  I'll  underwrite  you." 

That  same  evening  Cappy  sneaked  into  his  daughter's 
apartments  and  found  a  photograph  of  Matt  Peasley  in 
a  hammered  silver  frame  on  Florry's  dressing  table. 

"Holy  sailor !"  he  chuckled.  "They  think  they're  put 
ting  one  over  on  the  old  gentleman,  don't  they?  Trying 
to  cover  me  with  blood,  eh  ?  Huh !  If  I'd  let  that  fellow 
Matt  stay  ashore  he'd  have  hung  round  Florry  until  he 
wore  out  his  welcome,  and  I  suppose  in  the  long  run  I'd 
have  had  to  put  up  with  one  of  these  lawn-tennis,  tea- 
swilling  young  fellows  too  proud  to  work.  By  Judas 
Priest,  when  I  quit  the  street  I  want  to  give  my  proxy  to 
a  lad  that  will  make  my  competitors  mind  their  step,  and 
by  keeping  Matt  at  sea  a  couple  of  years,  I'll  get  him  over 
the  moon-calf  period.  Deliver  my  girl  and  my  business 
from  the  hands  of  a  damned  fool!" 


1 86  CAPPY    RICKS 

The  following  evening  Cappy  questioned  his  daughter's 
chauffeur — a  chauffeur,  by  the  way,  being  a  luxury  which 
Cappy  scorned  for  himself.  He  maintained  a  coachman 
and  a  carriage  and  a  spanking  team  of  bays,  and  drove 
to  his  office  like  the  old-fashioned  gentleman  he  was.  From 
this  chauffeur  Cappy  learned  that  he,  the  chauffeur,  had 
been  out  all  the  afternoon  with  Miss  Florence  and  a  large, 
light-hearted  young  gentleman.  They  had  lunched  to 
gether  at  the  Cliff  House. 

"What  did  she  call  him?"  Cappy  demanded,  anxious 
to  verify  his  suspicions.  "Didn't  she  address  him  as 
'Matt?'" 

"No,  sir,"  the  man  replied,  grinning.  "She  called  him 
'dearie.'  " 

"Holy  jumped-up  Jehosophat!"  murmured  Cappy,  and 
questioned  the  man  no  further.  That  evening,  however, 
he  decided  to  have  a  heart — particularly  after  Florry  had 
informed  him  that  she  was  going  out  to  dinner  the  fol 
lowing  night. 

"And  you'll  be  all  alone,  popsy-wops,"  she  added,  "so 
you  had  better  eat  dinner  at  the  club." 

"Oh,  I'm  tired  of  my  clubs,"  Cappy  replied  sadly. 
"Still  your  remark  gives  me  an  idea,  Florry.  If  I  happen 
to  run  across  that  young  fellow  Peasley — you  remember 
him,  Florry;  the  boy  I'm  training  for  a  steamship  cap 
tain — I'll  have  him  out  for  dinner  with  me  so  I'll  not  have 
to  eat  alone."  I 

"I  thought  you  didn't  care  for  him  socially,"  Florry 
put  forth  a  feeler. 

"Well,  he  used  to  remind  me  considerably  of  a  St.  Ber 
nard  pup,  but  I  notice  he's  losing  a  lot  of  that  fresh, 
puppy-dog  way  he  used  to  have.  And  then  he's  a  Down- 
East  boy.  His  Uncle  Ethan  Peasley  and  I  were  pals 


CAPPY  HAS  A  HEART  187 

together  fifty  years  ago,  and  for  Ethan's  sake  I  feel  that 
I  ought  to  show  the  boy  some  consideration.  He's  learn 
ing  to  hold  himself  together  pretty  well,  and  if  I  should 
run  into  him  to-morrow  I'll  ask  him  out." 

Florry  exhibited  not  the  slightest  interest  in  her  fath 
er's  plans,  but  he  noticed  that  immediately  after  dinner 
the  hurried  up  to  her  room,  and  that  upon  her  return  she 
declined  a  game  of  pool  with  her  father  on  the  score  of 
not  feeling  very  well. 

"You  skipped  upstairs  like  a  sick  woman,"  Cappy  re 
flected.  "I'll  bet  a  hat  you  telephoned  that  son  of  a  sea 
cook  to  be  sure  and  throw  himself  in  my  way  to-morrow, 
so  I'll  invite  him  out  to  dinner.  And  you're  complaining 
of  a  headache  now  so  you'll  have  a  good  excuse  to  cancel 
that  dinner  engagement  to-morrow  night  so  as  to  eat  at 
home  with  your  daddy  and  his  guest.  Poor  old  father! 
He's  such  a  dub!  I'll  bet  myself  a  four-bit  cigar  I  eat 
breakfast  alone  to-morrow  morning." 

And  it  was  even  so.  Florry  sent  down  word  that  she 
was  too  indisposed  to  breakfast  with  her  father,  and  the 
old  man  drove  chuckling  to  his  office.  That  afternoon 
Matt  Peasley,  in  an  endeavor  to  invade  the  floor  of  the 
Merchants'  Exchange,  to  which  he  had  no  right,  was 
apprehended  by  the  doorkeeper  and  asked  to  show  his 
credentials. 

"Oh,  I'm  Captain  Peasley,  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company,"  he  replied  lightly,  and  was  granted  admit 
tance  as  the  courtesy  accorded  all  sea  captains.  He  knew 
Cappy  Ricks  always  spent  an  hour  on  'Change  after 
luncheon  at  the  Commercial  Club.  When  Cappy  met  him, 
however,  the  old  man  was  mean  enough  to  pay  not  the 
slightest  attention  to  Matt;  so  after  waiting  round  for 
three-quarters  of  an  hour  longer,  the  latter  left  the  Ex- 


1 88  GAPPY    RICKS 

change  and  walked  down  California  Street,  where  he  posted 
himself  in  the  shelter  of  a  corner  half  a  block  south  of  No. 
258,  where  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Compan}'  had  its 
offices.  From  this  vantage  point  presently  he  spied  Cappy 
trotting  home  from  the  Merchants'  Exchange ;  whereupon 
Matt  strolled  leisurely  up  the  street  and  met  him.  And 
in  order  that  Cappy  should  realize  whom  he  was  meeting 
Matt  bumped  into  the  schemer  and  then  begged  his  par 
don  profusely. 

"Don't  mention  it,  Matt,"  the  old  rascal  protested. 
"You  shook  up  a  flock  of  ideas  in  my  head  and  jarred 
one  loose.  If  you  haven't  anything  on  to-night,  my  boy, 
better  come  out  to  the  house  and  have  dinner  with  me. 
I'm  all  alone  and  I  want  company." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  Matt  replied  enthusiastically;  "I'll 
be  glad  to  come." 

"You  bet  you  will,"  Cappy  thought.  Aloud  he  said: 
"At  six-thirty." 

"Yes,  sir.  Thank  you,  sir."  And  Matt  Peasley  was 
off  like  a  tin-canned  dog  to  slick  himself  up  for  the  party, 
while  Cappy  entered  the  elevator  chuckling.  "If  I  ever 
find  the  sour-souled  philosopher  who  said  you  can't  mix 
business  and  sentiment  without  resultant  chaos,"  he  so 
liloquized,  "I'll  boil  the  kill-joy  in  oil." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

NATURE  TAKES  HER  COURSE 

THE  big  steam  schooner  Quickstep  was  lying  at  the  Los 
Medanos  dock  when  Matt  Peasley  reported  for  duty.  The 
captain  was  not  aboard,  but  the  first  mate  received  him 
kindly  and  explained  that  Captain  Kjellin  had  gone  down 
to  San  Francisco  by  train  for  a  little  social  relaxation  and 
to  bring  back  funds  to  pay  off  the  longshoremen. 

Early  on  Monday  morning  the  crew  and  a  large  force 
of  stevedores  commenced  to  discharge  the  vessel.  Two 
winches  were  kept  busy,  the  first  mate  being  in  charge  of 
the  work  up  forward  and  Matt  superintending  that  aft. 
The  shingles  were  loaded  in  huge  rope  cargo  nets,  snatched 
out  of  the  ship  and  swung  overside  onto  flat  cars,  which 
were  shunted  off  into  the  drying  yard  as  soon  as  loaded. 

The  captain  returned  at  noon  on  Tuesday,  and  at  two 
o'clock  the  last  bundle  of  shingles  was  out  of  the  Quick 
step,  for  the  mate  had  worked  overtime  Monday  night 
in  order  that  they  might  finish  discharging  early  enough 
on  Tuesday  afternoon  to  drop  down  to  Oleum  and  take 
on  fuel  oil  for  the  next  voyage.  This  schedule  would  bring 
them  to  the  dock  at  San  Francisco  about  six  o'clock, 
where  they  would  take  on  stores  and  passengers  and  sail 
at  seven  for  Eureka,  on  Humboldt  Bay,  where  they  would 
arrive  Wednesday  night.  On  Thursday  they  would  com 
mence  taking  on  cargo,  but  since  they  had  to  take  shingles 
from  several  mills  round  the  bay,  they  were  bound  to  be 

189 


190  CAPPY    RICKS 

delayed  waiting  for  tides  to  get  in  and  out,  and  in  all 
probability  they  would  not  be  loaded  and  at  sea  until 
Saturday  night,  whicli  would  give  them  Sunday  at  sea — 
and  in  the  lumber  trade  on  the  Pacific  Coast  the  only 
profitable  way  to  spend  Sunday  is  to  spend  it  at  sea. 
To  spend  it  in  port  is  a  day  lost,  with  the  crew  loafing 
and  drawing  full  pay  for  it.  The  mate  explained  to  Matt 
that  Captain  Kjellin  would  drive  them  hard  to  maintain 
this  schedule,  for  he  prized  his  job  as  master  of  the  Quick 
step,  and  had  a  reputation  for  speed  and  efficiency  with 
his  owners  which  he  was  anxious  to  maintain. 

Despite  their  best  efforts,  however,  the  vessel  was 
doomed  to  fall  behind  her  schedule.  At  Oleum  they  found 
the  oil  dock  lined  with  vessels  taking  on  fuel,  and  in  con 
sequence  were  forced  to  wait  two  hours  for  a  berth ;  see 
ing  which  the  captain  went  ashore  and  telephoned  his 
owners  that  he  would  be  unable  to  get  to  the  dock  in  San 
Francisco  until  about  eight  o'clock.  Consequently,  Mr. 
Skinner,  realizing  that  the  passengers  their  agent  had 
booked  for  the  Quickstep,  by  reason  of  the  cut-rates  pre 
vailing  on  lumber  steamers,  would  not  wait  on  the  dock 
until  the  Quickstep  should  arrive,  instructed  the  captain 
to  lay  over  in  San  Francisco  all  night  and  put  to  sea  at 
nine  o'clock  Wednesday  morning.  In  the  meantime  he 
said  he  would  send  a  clerk  down  to  the  dock  to  notify  the 
waiting  passengers  of  the  unavoidable  change  in  schedule. 

Promptly  at  eight  o'clock  Wednesday  morning  the 
Quickstep  got  away  from  the  dock.  The  minute  she  was 
fairly  out  the  Golden  Gate,  however,  she  poked  her  nose 
into  a  stiff  nor'west  gale;  and  as  she  was  bound  north 
and  was  empty,  this  gale,  catching  her  on  the  port  counter, 
caused  her  to  roll  and  pitch  excessively,  and  cut  her  cus 
tomary  speed  of  ten  miles  an  hour  dov.-n  to  fr*p.  Every 


NATURE  TAKES  HER  COURSE         191 

passenger  aboard  was  soon  desperately  seasick,  and  off 
Point  Reyes  so  violently  did  the  Quickstep  pitch  that  even 
some  members  of  the  crew  became  nauseated,  among  them 
Matt  Peasley.  He  had  never  been  seasick  before  and  he 
was  ashamed  of  himself  now,  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  he  knew  even  the  hardiest  old  seadogs  are  not  proof 
against  mal-de-mer  under  certain  extraordinary  condi 
tions.  Captain  Kjellin,  coming  up  on  the  bridge  during 
Matt's  watch,  found  the  latter  doing  the  most  unseaman- 
like  tiling  imaginable.  Caught  in  a  paroxysm  at  the 
weather  end  of  the  bridge,  Matt,  in  his  agony,  was  pa 
tronizing  the  weather  rail!  The  captain  heard  him 
squawk,  and  ducked  to  avoid  what  instinct  told  him  the 
gale  would  bring  him  his  way. 

"Vat  you  ban  tankin'  of?"  he  roared  furiously.  "You 
damned  landsman!  Don't  you  know  enough  to  discharge 
dot  cargo  over  der  lee  rail?" 

Having  disposed  of  a  hearty  breakfast,  Matt  raised  his 
green  face  and  stared  sheepishly  at  the  Finn.  "You  didn't 
get  sprayed,  did  you,  sir?"  he  queried  breathlessly. 

"No,  but  who  der  devil  ever  heard  of  a  seaman  gettin* 
sick  to  windward ?" 

"I  know  it  looks  awful,  sir,"  quavered  Matt.  "I  thought 
something  like  this  might  happen,  and  in  order  to  be  pre 
pared  for  eventualities  I  hung  a  fire  bucket  over  the  edge 
of  the  weather-bridge  railing  and  set  another  there  by  the 
binnacle.  The  man  at  the  wheel  got  me  started,  sir.  He 
asked  me  if  I  liked  fat  pork.  Can't  you  see  that  if  I  had 
made  a  quick  run  for  the  lee  rail  while  the  vessel  was  pitch 
ing  to  leeward  the  chances  are  I'd  continue  right  on 
overboard?  As  soon  as  I  get  my  bearings  again  I'll  empty 
the  bucket,  sir." 

"Der  fire  buckets  ban't  for  dot  purpose." 


i92  GAPPY    RICKS 

"All  right,  sir.  I'll  buy  you  a  new  fire  bucket  when  we 
get  to  Eureka,"  Matt  answered  contritely. 

Kjellin  stayed  on  the  bridge  a  few  minutes,  growling 
and  glaring,  but  Matt  was  too  ill  and  dispirited  to  paj 
any  attention  to  him,  so  finally  he  went  below. 

The  Quickstep  bucked  the  gale  all  the  way  to  Hum- 
boldt  Bar,  and  tied  up  at  the  first  mill  dock  at  half  past 
one  o'clock  on  Friday.  It  was  two  o'clock  before  the 
passengers  and  their  baggage  had  been  sent  ashore,  but 
the  minute  the  last  trunk  went  over  the  rail  the  loading 
began. 

"We'll  work  overtime  again  to-night,"  the  first  mate 
told  Matt  at  luncheon.  "The  old  man  will  drive  us  hard 
to-morrow,  and  we'll  have  more  overtime  Saturday  night 
so  we  can  get  to  sea  early  Sunday  morning." 

"I  don't  care,"  Matt  replied.  "I  get  seventy-five  cents 
an  hour  for  my  overtime,  and  I'm  big  enough  to  stand  a 
lot  of  that.  But,  believe  me,  I'll  jump  lively.  The  old 
man's  out  of  sorts  on  account  of  the  delay  due  to  that 
head  wind." 

At  three  o'clock  the  captain  walked  aft,  where  Matt 
Peasley  was  superintending  the  stowing  in  the  after  hold. 

"Is  dot  all  you've  got  to  do,"  he  sneered — "settin* 
roundt  mit  your  hands  in  your  poggeds?" 

Matt  glared  at  him.  True,  his  hands  were  in  his  pock 
ets  at  that  moment,  but  he  was  not  setting  round.  He 
was  watching  a  slingload  of  shingles  hovering  high  over 
the  hatch,  and  the  instant  it  was  lowered  he  intended  to 
leap  upon  it,  unship  the  cargo  hook,  hang  the  spare 
cargo  net  on  it  and  whistle  to  the  winchman  to  hoist 
away  for  another  slingload.  He  controlled  his  temper  and 
said: 

"I'm  doing  the  best  I  can,  sir.    That  winchman  doesu*t 


NATURE  TAKES  HER  COURSE         193 

have  to  wait  on  us  a  second,  sir.  We  handle  them  as  fast 
as  they  swing  them  in  from  the  mill  dock." 

"Yump  in  an*  do  somedings  yourself,"  Kjellin  growled. 
*'Don't  stand  roundt  like  a  young  leddy." 

"D'ye  mean  you  want  I  should  mule  shingles  round  in 
this  hold  like  a  longshoreman?" 

"Sure!  Ve  got  to  get  to  sea  Sunday  morning,  und 
every  liddle  bit  helps." 

"Well,  then  you'll  get  along  without  my  little  bit.  If 
you  don't  know  your  business,  sir,  I  know  mine.  Some 
body's  got  to  tend  that  sling,  and  everybody's  business  is 
nobody's  business.  If  I'm  not  on  the  job  a  bundle  of 
shingles  may  come  flying  down  from  above  and  kill  a  man, 
or  that  heavy  cargo  block  may  crack  a  stevedore  on  the 
head.  Who's  going  to  look  after  the  broken  bundles  and 
see  that  they're  repacked  if  I  don't?  I  can't  do  that  and 
mule  shingles  round  in  this  hold,  sir ;  and  what's  more  I'm 
not  going  to  do  it." 

"Den,  by  yimminy,  you  get  off  der  ship!"  the  captain 
roared.  "I  don't  vant  no  loafers  aboard  my  boat,  und  if 
you  tank " 

"Stow  the  gab,  you  big  Finn!  I'm  through.  Pay  me 
off  and  help  yourself  to  another  second  mate."  And  Matt 
put  on  his  coat  and  whistled  to  the  winchman  to  steady 
his  slingload  while  he  climbed  out  of  the  hold.  Kjellin 
followed  and  Matt  preceded  him  to  his  stateroom,  where 
the  captain  paid  him  the  few  dollars  he  had  coming  to 
him. 

"Sign  clear,"  he  ordered,  and  Matt  took  an  indelible 
pencil  and  stooped  over  the  skipper's  desk  to  sign  the 
pay  roll.  As  he  straightened  up  the  captain's  powerful 
left  forearm  came  round  Matt's  left  shoulder  and  under  his 
chin,  tilting  his  head  backward,  while  the  Finn's  left  knee 


194  GAPPY    RICKS 

ground  into  the  small  of  his  back.  He  was  held  as  in  a 
vise,  helpless,  and  Kjellin  spoke: 

"Ven  I  get  fresh  young  faler  like  you,  an'  he  quit  me 
cold,  I  lick  him  after  I  pay  him  off." 

"I  see,"  Matt  replied  calmly.  "That  makes  it  a  plain 
case  of  assault  and  battery,  whereas  if  you  lick  him  be 
fore  you  pay  him  off,  he  can  sue  your  owners.  You're 
a  fine,  smart  squarehead!" 

"You  bet!"  Kjellin  answered,  and  struck  him  a  stun 
ning  blow  behind  the  ear.  Matt,  realizing  his  inability  to 
wriggle  out  of  the  captain's  grasp,  kicked  backward  with 
his  right  foot  and  caught  the  Finn  squarely  on  the  right 
shin,  splintering  the  bone.  The  captain  cried  out  with 
the  pain  of  it  and  released  the  pressure  on  Matt's  chin, 
whereupon  the  latter  whirled,  picked  the  Finn  up  bodily, 
and  threw  him  through  the  stateroom  door  out  onto  the 
deck,  where  he  struck  the  pipe  railing  and  rebounded. 
He  lay  where  he  fell,  and  when  Matt's  brain  cleared  and 
he  came  out  on  deck  the  captain  was  moaning. 

"Get  up,  you  brute!"  Matt  ordered.  "You  got  the 
wrong  pig  by  the  ear  that  time." 

"My  leg  ban  broken,"  Kjellin  whimpered. 

"I  wish  it  was  your  neck,"  Matt  replied  with  feeling, 
and  bent  over  to  examine  his  fallen  foe.  When  he  grasped 
Kjellin  by  the  right  shoulder,  however,  the  Finn  screamed 
with  pain,  so  Matt  called  the  steward,  and  together  they 
lifted  him  and  carried  him  to  his  berth. 

"I'll  bet  a  cooky  you're  a  total  loss  and  no  accident 
insurance,"  Matt  soliloquized.  "You're  not  worth  it, 
but  for  the  sake  of  the  owners  I'll  get  a  doctor  to  look 
you  over,"  and  he  went  ashore  at  once.  When  the  doc 
tor  had  looked  Thorwald  Kjellin  over  his  verdict  was  a 
broken  tibia,  a  broken  radius  and  a  broken  clavicle. 


NATURE  TAKES  HER  COURSE         195 

Matt  was  concerned.  "I  don't  think  I  ever  had  any  of 
those  things  to  get  broken,"  he  declared  humorously,  "but 
if  mere  words  mean  anything  I'll  bet  this  is  a  hospital 
job."  The  doctor  nodded,  and  Matt  turned  to  the  cap 
tain:  "Do  you  want  to  go  to  the  hospital  in  Eureka  or 
in  San  Francisco?" 

"I  ban  vant  to  go  home,"  the  Finn  moaned. 

"Very  well,  captain;  I  guess  your  successor  will  bring 
you  there.  I'm  going  up  to  the  mill  office  now  to  report 
to  the  owners  by  telephone." 

"Dot  ban't  none  o'  your  business,  Peasley,"  Kjellin 
protested.  "Dot  is  der  first  mate's  job.  You  ban  fired." 

"Yes,  I  know.     Now  I'm  back-firing,"  Matt  retorted. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  he  had  Cappy  Ricks  on  the  long 
distance  telephone. 

"Mr.  Ricks,"  he  began,  "this  is  Peasley  talking  from 
Eureka.  I  have  to  report  that  I'm  fired  out  of  the  Quick 
step.  I'm  not  complaining  about  that  or  asking  you  to 
reinstate  me,  because  I  can  get  another  job  now,  but  I 
want  to  tell  you  why  I  was  fired.  The  captain  got  a 
grouch  against  me  coming  up.  We  had  a  nor'west  gale 
on  our  port  counter  and  she  rolled  and  bucked  until  even 
some  of  the  crew  got  seasick.  I'm  ashamed  to  say  I  fell 
by  the  wayside  myself  for  a  few  minutes,  and  Captain 
Kjellin  caught  me  draped  over  the  weather  bridge  rail 
ing.  So  I  guess  he  thought  I  wasn't  much  of  a  seaman. 
Anyhow  he  picked  on  me  from  then  on,  and  a  little  whil 
ago  he  ordered  me  to  mule  shingles  with  the  longshore 
men  in  the  after  hold.  I  couldn't  do  that,  Mr.  Ricks.  I'm 
a  ship's  officer,  and  besides  you've  simply  got  to  have  some 
body  to  watch  the  slings  when  they're  coming  into  the 
ship  at  the  rate  of  two  a  minute  or  somebody  will  get 
hurt,  and  then  the  vessel  will  be  sued  for  damages.  You 


196  CAPPY    RICKS 

see  we  were  working  overtime  and  in  a  hurry  to  get 
loaded " 

"I  see  everything,"  Gappy  retorted.  "What  happened 
next?" 

"The  captain  got  me  foul  in  his  cabin  when  I  went  to 
be  paid  off,  and  hung  a  shanty  back  of  my  ear,  so  I  threw 
him  out  on  deck  and  hurt  him.  You'll  have  to  send  a  new 
skipper  up  to  bring  the  Quickstep  home,  sir.  The  first 
mate  is  a  good  man  but  he  hasn't  a  master's  license " 

"What  did  you  do  to  Kjellin,  Matt?" 

"You'll  have  to  ask  a  doctor,  sir.  I  didn't  intend  to 
break  him  up,  but  it  seems  I  damaged  all  his  Latin  super 
structure,  and  he'll  have  to  go  to  a  hospital  for  a  couple 
of  months.  I'm  sorry  I  hurt  your  skipper,  sir,  and  I  felt 
I  couldn't  leave  your  employ,  Mr.  Ricks,  without  an  ex 
planation." 

"You  haven't  left  my  employ  at  all.  Get  back  on  the 
job  and  load  that  vessel,  or  the  first  thing  you  know  you'll 
be  stuck  in  port  over  Sunday,  and  that's  not  the  way  to 
make  a  start  as  master  of  the  Quickstep.  You  have  a  li 
cense  as  master  of  steam,  haven't  you?" 

"Yes,  sir.    I  can  handle  her,  sir." 

"Then  do  it  and  don't  stand  there  burning  up  good 
money  on  the  long-distance  phone.  The  Quickstep  is 
yours — on  one  condition." 

"I  accept  it,  sir,"  Matt  exclaimed,  overjoyed.  "What 
is  it?" 

"That  you  stick  in  her  at  least  six  months." 

"I  will  if  I  live  and  she  floats  that  long,  sir.  Thank  you. 
Please  have  a  second  mate  and  an  ambulance  waiting  for 
me  at  Meiggs  Wharf  on  Monday.  I'll  touch  in  there  on 
my  way  up  river  to  discharge  what's  left  of  your  skipper." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

MB.  SKINNER  HEARS  A  LECTURE 

DOWN  in  the  offices  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Com 
pany  Cappy  Ricks,  having  summoned  Mr.  Skinner,  sat 
peering  whimsically  at  the  general  manager  over  the  rims 
of  his  spectacles.  "Well,  Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he  an 
nounced  presently,  "sure  enough  there  was  something 
wrong  with  the  Quickstep,  and  now  I  know  what  it  is ; 
she  has  had  the  wrong  master.  When  he  hustles  to  catch 
a  tide  or  to  get  to  sea  Saturday  night  or  Sunday  morning 
he  drives  his  mates  and  tries  to  make  them  do  longshore 
men's  work.  When  he  bullied  a  weak  mate  into  doing 
that,  there  was  nobody  to  pay  exclusive  attention  to 
the  slingloads  as  they  came  into  the  ship,  and  naturally 
accidents  resulted.  When  strong  second  mates  refused 
he  fired  them,  and  after  firing  them  he  cornered  them  in 
his  cabin,  held  them  foul  and  beat  them.  You  see,  Skin 
ner,  this  skookum  skipper  of  yours  didn't  realize  that  with 
two  slingloads  of  shingles  a  minute  dropping  into  the 
ship  he  had  to  have  a  man  on  the  job  to  watch  the  load 
ing  and  do  nothing  else ;  and  because  he  didn't  realize  the 
error  of  his  way,  Skinner,  he  and  Matt  Peasley  have  pulled 
off  that  little  skin-glove  contest,  and  now  Kjellin  looks 
like  a  barrel  of  cement  that's  been  dropped  out  the  win 
dow  of  a  six-story  building.  Hum !  Ahem !  Harump-h-h-h ! 
Call  up  the  attorney  for  that  man  Jacobsen  that's  suing 
the  Quickstep,  and  tell  him  to  come  down  here  with  his 

197 


198  CAPPY    RICKS 

man  and  we'll  settle  the  case  out  of  court.  His  charge 
lies  against  Kjellin  for  assault  and  battery,  but  after  all, 
Skinner,  I  dare  say  we  are  in  a  measure  responsible  for 
our  servants.  I'll  give  the  attorney  about  twenty-five 
dollars  for  his  fee,  and  er — the  man  Jacobsen — let  me  see, 
Skinner,  he  had  a  broken  nose,  did  he  not?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"We'll  pay  his  doctor  bill  and  his  wages  as  second  mate 
since  Kjellin  fired  him,  and  give  him  a  hundred  dollars 
extra." 

"How  about  Kjellin's  hospital  bill?" 

"I  disclaim  responsibility,  Skinner.  Did  he  settle  up 
with  the  cashier  for  his  last  voyage?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"Then  send  him  a  wireless  and  tell  him  he's  fired.  Also, 
Skinner,  my  boy,  see  that  an  ambulance  is  waiting  for  him 
at  Meiggs  Wharf  when  he  arrives  on  the  Quickstep  on 
Monday.  We'll  show  him  we're  not  entirely  heartless. 
Make  it  clear,  however,  that  this  office  will  not  be  respon 
sible  for  the  ambulance  fee.  Matt  will  bring  the  vessel 
down  without  a  second  mate,  I  dare  say.  He'll  stand  a 
watch  himself.  Better  call  up  Harbor  15  and  see  if  there 
isn't  a  second  mate  out  of  a  job  hanging  round  there,  and 
tell  him  to  join  the  ship  at  Meiggs  Wharf." 

Mr.  Skinner's  eyes  fairly  popped.  "You  don't  mean 
to  tell  me,  sir,  that  you've  given  the  Quickstep  to  that 
rowdy  Peasley?" 

Cappy  relapsed  into  the  colloquialism  of  the  younger 
generation  with  which  he  was  wont  to  associate  at  lunch 
eon.  "Surest  thing  you  know,"  he  said. 

"If  I  may  be  permitted  a  criticism,  Mr.  Ricks " 

"You  may  not." 

"Your  sentimental  leaning  toward  your  fellow  towns- 


MR.  SKINNER  HEARS  A  LECTURE       199 

man  may  be  the  cause  of  losing  one  of  the  best  paying 
ships  of  the  fleet." 

"Forget  it,  Skinner!" 

"Oh,  very  well.  You're  the  boss,  Mr.  Ricks.  But  if 
I  were  in  your  place  I  would  have  an  older  and  more  ex 
perienced  man  to  relieve  him  the  moment  he  comes  into 
the  bay.  You  must  remember,  Mr.  Ricks,  that  while  he 
may  run  her  very  nicely  during  the  summer  months,  he 
has  had  no  experience  on  Humboldt  Bay  during  the  win 
ter  months " 

"Skinner,  the  only  way  he'll  ever  accumulate  experience 
on  that  bar  is  to  give  him  the  opportunity." 

"He'll  take  big  risks.  He's  very  young  and  head 
strong." 

"I  admit  he's  fiery.  But  I  promised  him  a  ship,  and 
he's  earned  her  sooner  than  I  planned,  so,  even  if  my 
decision  loses  the  Quickstep  for  us,  he  shall  have  her.  I'll 
be  swindled  if  I  ever  did  see  the  like  of  that  boy  Matt.  He 
gets  results.  And  do  you  know  why,  Skinner?" 

"Because,"  Mr.  Skinner  replied  coldly,  "he's  a  huge, 
healthy  animal,  able  and  willing  to  fight  his  way  in  any 
ship,  and  at  the  came  time  clever  enough  to  take  advan 
tage  of  your  paternal  interest  in  him " 

"Rats  !  I'll  give  you  the  answer,  Skinner,  my  boy :  He 
gets  results  because  he  does  his  duty  and  doesn't  sidestep 
for  man  or  devil.  And  he's  able  to  do  his  duty  and  do  it 
well  because  he  has  a  clear  understanding  of  what  his 
duty  is — and  that,  Skinner,  is  the  kind  of  skipper  material 
I've  been  looking  for  all  my  life.  As  for  the  boy's  horse 
power,  let  me  tell  you  this:  If  Matt  Peasley  wasn't  any 
bigger  than  I  am,  he'd  fight  any  man  that  tried  to  walk 
over  him.  It's  in  his  breed.  Damn  it,  sir,  he's  a  Yankee 
skipper,  and  when  you've  said  that  you're  through.  I 


200  CAPPY    RICKS 

guess  I  know.  How  much  have  we  been  paying  that  bully 
Kjellin?" 

"Two  hundred  a  month." 

"Too  much!  Pay  Matt  two-twenty-five  and  attend  to 
the  certificate  of  change  of  masters." 

When  Mr.  Skinner  had  departed  Cappy  sat  back  in 
his  chair  and  closed  his  eyes,  as  was  his  habit  when  his 
gigantic  brain  grappled  with  a  problem  of  more  than  or 
dinary  dimensions.  For  fully  ten  minutes  he  sat  absolutely 
motionless,  then  suddenly  he  straightened  up  like  a  jack- 
in-the-box  and  summoned  Mr.  Skinner. 

"Skinner,"  he  said  plaintively,  "I'm  feeling  a  little  run 
down.  Will  you  please  be  good  enough  to  book  Florry 
and  me  passage  to  Europe  right  away.  I've  never  been 
to  Europe,  you  know,  Skinner,  and  I  think  it's  time  I  took 
a  vacation." 

Mr.  Skinner  smiled.     "Why  all  the  hurry?"  he  queried. 

"I  want  to  try  out  a  theory,"  Cappy  replied.  "I  have 
a  great  curiosity,  Skinner,  to  ascertain  if  there  is  any 
truth  in  the  old  saying  that  absence  makes  the  heart  grow 
fonder.  And  if  it  does,  Skinner — why,  the  sooner  I  start 
the  sooner  I  can  get  back." 

Mr.  Skinner  went  out  mystified.  As  Mark  Twain's 
friend,  Mr.  Ballou,  remarked  about  the  coffee,  Cappj 
Ricks  was  a  little  too  "technical"  for  him. 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

INTERNAL,    COMBUSTION 

THE  Quickstep  had  arrived  in  port  again  before  Cappy 
Ricks  and  Florry  could  get  away  to  Europe,  so  Matt 
came  down  by  train  from  Los  Medanos  and  was  granted 
the  meager  comfort  of  a  farewell  with  his  heart's  desire. 
Thereafter  all  comfort  fled  his  life,  for,  with  Cappy  Ricks 
away,  Mr.  Skinner  was  high  and  low  justice,  and  he  was 
not  long  keeping  Matt  Peasley  in  ignorance  of  the  fact 
that  it  was  one  thing  to  skipper  a  Blue  Star  ship  for 
Cappy  Ricks  and  quite  another  thing  to  skipper  the  same 
ship  for  the  Blue  Star  manager.  For  Mr.  Skinner  had 
never  liked  Captain  Peasley,  and,  moreover,  he  never  in 
tended  to,  for  the  master  of  the  Quickstep  was  not 
sufficiently  submissive  to  earn  the  general  manager's 
approbation  as  a  desirable  employee,  and  Cappy  Ricks  was 
the  only  man  with  a  will  and  a  way  of  his  own  who  could 
get  along  amicably  in  the  same  office  with  the  efficient  and 
cold-blooded  Mr.  Skinner. 

Cappy  wasn't  outside  Sandy  Hook  before  Mr.  Skinner 
had  Matt  on  the  carpet  for  daring  to  bring  the  Quickstep 
up  river  without  a  pilot.  He  demanded  an  explanation. 

"I  made  careful  note  of  all  the  twists  and  turns  when 
the  pilot  took  me  up  the  first  time,"  Matt  declared.  "It 
isn't  a  difficult  channel,  so  I  decided  to  save  forty-five  dol 
lars  the  next  time  and  take  her  up  myself." 

"Suppose  you'd  buried  her  nose  in  the  mud  and  we'd 

201 


202  GAPPY    RICKS 

had  to  lighter  her  dcckload  to  get  her  off,"  Mr.  Skinner 
suggested. 

Matt  grinned.  "If  your  aunt  was  a  man  she'd  be  your 
uncle,  wouldn't  she?';  he  parried.  He  had  made  up  his 
mind  not  to  take  Mr.  Skinner  seriously.  Mr.  Skinner 
flushed,  looked  dangerous,  but  concluded  not  to  pursue 
;the  investigation  further. 

Three  weeks  later,  when  making  up  to  a  dock  at  San 
Pedro,  a  strong  ebb  tide  and  a  mistake  in  judgment  swung 
the  bow  of  the  Quickstep  into  the  end  of  the  dock  and  a 
dolphin  was  torn  out.  In  the  fullness  of  time  the  Blue 
Star  Navigation  Company  was  in  receipt  of  a  bill  for  $112 
dock  repairs,  whereupon  Mr.  Skinner  wrote  Matt,  pre 
facing  his  letter  with  the  query:  "Referring  to  inclosed 
bill — how  did  this  happen?"  Then  he  went  on  to  scold 
Matt  bitterly  for  his  inability  to  handle  his  ship  properly 
in  making  up  to  a  dock. 

Matt  promptly  returned  Mr.  Skinner  his  own  letter, 
with  this  penciled  memorandum  at  the  bottom  of  the  page : 
"Referring  to  inclosed  bill  for  dock  repairs — the  dock 
happened  to  be  in  my  course.  That's  the  only  way  I  can 
account  for  it." 

For  some  time,  whenever  the  Quickstep  carried  shingle 
cargoes  for  the  Shingle  Association,  there  had  been  dis 
putes  over  her  freight  bill,  due  to  continued  discrepancies 
between  the  tally  in  and  the  tall}*  out,  and  Mr.  Skinner  had 
instructed  Matt  to  tally  his  next  cargo  into  the  ship  him 
self  and  then  tally  it  out  again.  Matt  engaged  a  certified 
lumber  surveyor  at  five  dollars  a  day  to  do  the  tallying  at 
the  various  mills,  but  at  Los  Medanos  he  tallied  the  cargo 
out  personally.  To  a  shingle  it  agreed  with  the  mill  tally. 
Subsequently  the  manager  of  the  drying  yard  reported  a 
shortage  of  eight  thousand  shingles,  and  again  Mr.  Skin- 


INTERNAL  COMBUSTION  203 

ner  wrote  Matt  for  an  explanation,  to  which  Matt  re 
plied  as  follows : 

"Do  not  pay  any  attention  to  the  yard  manager's 
tally.  Ours  is  right.  A  certified  tallyman  counted 
11,487,250  in,  and  I  counted  11,487,250  out,  as  I 
have  already  reported.  Sorry  I  cannot  reverse  my 
decision.  However,  I  have  an  idea  which  may  account 
for  the  shortage:  After  the  vessel  is  reported  down 
river,  the  stevedores  gather  on  the  dock,  and  while 
waiting  for  us  to  arrive  and  commence  discharging 
they  whittle  shingles  to  pass  the  time  away.  I  give 
you  this  information  for  what  it  may  be  worth." 

Mr.  Skinner  had  the  grace  to  see  that  he  had  been 
rebuked  and  left  standing  in  a  very  poor  light  for  one 
of  his  noted  efficiency,  so  he  did  not  pursue  the  subject 
further;  but  the  next  time  Matt  came  to  the  office  he 
jumped  on  him  for  carrying  a  dead-head  passenger  from 
San  Pedro  in  the  first  cabin. 

"Of  course  I  carried  him,"  Matt  replied.  "When  I  was 
before  the  mast  in  the  Annabel  Lee  he  was  her  skipper,  so 
when  I  met  him  in  Pedro  minus  his  ticket  and  stony  broke 
I  gave  him  a  lift  to  San  Francisco.  Mr.  Ricks  informed 
me  that  I  would  be  permitted  these  little  courtesies  within 
the  bounds  of  reason." 

"When  Captain  Kjellin  had  the  Quickstep,"  Mr.  Skin 
ner  answered,  "he  never  carried  dead-heads." 

"You  mean  he  didn't  have  the  courage  to  put  the  name 
on  the  passenger  list  and  write  D.  H.  after  it.  However, 
please  do  not  compare  me  with  Captain  Kjellin." 

"Well,  you're  not  making  the  time  he  made  in  the 
Quickstep." 


204  CAPPY    RICKS 

"I  know  it,  sir.  My  policy  is  to  make  haste  slowly. 
Kjellin  hurried — and  see  what  happened  to  him.  He'll 
never  be  fast  again,  either,  with  that  short  leg  of  his." 

"Captain  Peasley,  I  am  opposed  to  your  levity." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  worry  and  stew  just  because  you 
do  not  happen  to  like  me  and  keep  picking  on  me,  Mr. 
Skinner?  Why  don't  you  be  a  sport  and  give  me  a  fair 
chance,  sir?  You  have  all  the  best  of  it  in  any  argu 
ment — so  why  argue?" 

"No  more  dead-heads,"  Mr.  Skinner  warned.  "Here 
after,  pay  for  your  guests." 

With  the  coming  on  of  winter,  however,  Matt's  troubles 
with  Mr.  Skinner  really  commenced,  although,  in  all  jus 
tice  to  Skinner,  the  general  manager  was  merely  follow 
ing  out  his  theory  of  efficiency,  and  in  respect  to  the  mat 
ter  upon  which  he  deviled  Matt  Peasley  most  he  did  not 
differ  vastly  from  many  managing  owners  of  steam  schoon 
ers  on  the  Pacific  Coast.  The  trouble  lay  in  the  fact 
that  the  Quickstep  carried  passengers.  While  she  was  a 
cargo  boat,  and  hence  had  no  regular  run  or  sailing  sched 
ule,  her  cabin  accommodations  were  really  very  good  and 
her  steward's  department  excelled  that  of  the  regular  pas 
senger  boats.  By  cutting  the  regular  passenger  rates 
from  twenty-five  to  forty  per  cent,  and  advertising  the 
vessel  to  sail  at  a  certain  hour  on  a  certain  date  from  a 
certain  pier,  free-lance  ticket  brokers  found  no  difficulty 
in  getting  her  a  fair  complement  of  passengers  each  trip. 
There  was  a  moderate  profit  in  this  passenger  traffic,  and 
Mr.  Skinner  was  anxious  to  increase  it. 

The  difficulty  surrounding  the  passenger  business  in 
the  steam-schooner  trade,  however,  lies  in  the  uncertainty 
of  a  vessel's  arrival  and  departure.  It  is  all  guesswork. 
Thus  Matt  Peasley,  with  his  cargo  half  discharged  at 


INTERNAL  COMBUSTION  205 

San  Pedro,  would  estimate  that  he  would  sail  from  that 
port,  northbound  via  San  Francisco  to  some  Oregon  or 
Washington  port  for  another  cargo,  at  noon  on  the  fol 
lowing  day.  Accordingly,  he  would  wire  his  owners,  who 
would  immediately  advertise  the  sailing  of  the  vessel  from 
San  Francisco  forty  hours  later,  the  Quickstep's  aver 
age  running  time  between  San  Pedro  and  San  Francisco 
being  about  thirty-eight  hours.  If  the  master's  estimate 
proved  correct  and  there  were  no  strong  head  winds  to 
retard  the  vessel,  she  would  sail  within  an  hour  or  two 
of  the  advertised  time,  whereas  a  delay  of  six  to  eight 
hours  in  the  arrival  of  the  vessel  at  San  Francisco  might 
mean  the  loss  of  all  the  passenger  business  garnered  for 
that  trip  ;  for  competition  was  keen,  and  the  ticket  agents, 
selling  on  a  commission  of  one  dollar  per  ticket,  would 
switch  the  traffic  to  some  other  vessel  sailing  earlier  rather 
than  have  the  tickets  canceled  and  thus  lose  the  commis 
sion. 

When  through  delay  or  miscalculation  the  vessel  lost 
passenger  traffic  out  of  a  port  other  than  San  Francisco, 
Mr.  Skinner  did  not  feel  discouraged.  To  lose  passengers 
out  of  San  Francisco,  where  the  home  office  of  the  Blue 
Star  Navigation  Company  was  located,  however,  savored 
of  a  reflection  on  his  efficiency,  and  caused  him  much  bit 
ter  anguish.  Consequently,  when  Matt  Peasley,  with  a 
full  passenger  list  from  Eureka  to  San  Francisco,  wired 
Mr.  Skinner  that  he  would  leave  his  loading  port  at  two 
P.  M.  on  Wednesday,  Mr.  Skinner  allowed  him  twenty-two 
hours  for  landing  his  passengers  from  Eureka  to  San 
Francisco  and  taking  on  another  load  for  San  Pedro, 
whither  the  Quickstep  was  bound  on  that  voyage.  As  a 
result  the  Quickstep  was  advertised  to  sail  from  San  Fran 
cisco  on  Thursday  at  two  P.  M.,  and  the  agents  were  noti- 


206  CAPPY    RICKS 

i 
fied  to  commence  selling  tickets.     Judge  of  Mr.  Skinner's 

perturbation,   therefore,  when  he   received  the  following 
wireless  from  Matt  Peasley  at  five  o'clock  on  Wednesday : 

Bar  breaking  heavily.  At  anchor  inside.  Will  cross 
out  as  soon  as  I  judge  it  safe  to  do  so. 

Three  hours'  delay,  already,  with  the  prospects  exceed 
ingly  bright  for  the  Quickstep's  lurking  inside  Humboldt 
Bar  all  night !  Mr.  Skinner  saw  his  passenger  traffic  gone 
to  glory  for  that  trip,  so  he  sent  a  reply  to  Matt  Peasley 
by  wireless,  as  follows : 

You  are  advertised  to  sail  from  here  for  San  Pedro 
at  two  o'clock  to-morrow.  Hope  you  will  permit  noth 
ing  to  militate  against  the  preservation  of  that  sched 
ule.  Answer. 

"That's  what  comes  of  having  an  inexperienced  man  in 
.the  vessel,"  he  complained  to  the  cashier.  "That  fellow 
'Peasley  sees  a  few  white  caps  on  the  bar,  and  he's  afraid 
lo  cross  out.  Damn!  Kjellin  had  her  three  years  and 
never  hung  behind  a  bar  once.  Many  a  time  he's  come 
down  to  Humboldt  Bar  and  found  half  a  dozen  steam 
schooners  at  anchor  inside,  waiting  for  a  chance  to  duck 
out.  Did  Kjellin  drop  anchor  too?  He  did  not.  Out  he 
went  and  bucked  right  through  it." 

Mr.  Skinner  waited  at  the  office  until  six  o'clock  to  get 
Matt  Peasley's  answer.  He  got  it — between  the  eyes:  \ 

I  have  no  jurisdiction  over  Humboldt  Bar. 

The  Quickstep  crossed  out  next  morning,  and  Mr.  Skin 
ner  wirelessed  her  master  this  message: 


INTERNAL  COMBUSTION  207 

Your  timidity  has  spoiled  San  Pedro  passenger 
business.  Drop  Eureka  passengers  at  Meiggs  Wharf 
and  continue  your  voyage. 

Now  it  does  not  please  any  mariner  to  be  told  that  he 
is  timid,  and,  while  Matt  Peasley  made  no  reply,  neverthe 
less,  he  chalked  up  a  black  mark  against  Mr.  Skinner 
and  commenced  to  plan  against  the  day  of  reckoning. 

That  was  an  unusually  severe  winter.  Four  times  Matt 
Peasley  came  down  to  the  entrance  to  Humboldt  Bar 
and  came  to  anchor.  Three  times  he  tried  to  cross  out 
and  was  forced  to  change  his  mind ;  seven  times  did  Mr. 
Skinner  upbraid  him.  The  eighth  time  that  Matt  Peas- 
ley's  caution  knocked  the  San  Francisco  passenger  traf 
fic  into  a  deficit,  Mr.  Skinner  sent  him  this  message  where 
the  Quickstep  lay  behind  Coos  Bay  Bar : 

What  is  the  matter  with  you?  Your  predecessor  al 
ways  managed  to  negotiate  that  bar,  and  this  com 
pany  expects  same  of  you. 

"He's  bound  to  run  me  out  of  this  ship,"  Matt  solilo 
quized  when  he  read  that  terse  aerogram,  "but  I  promised 
Cappy  I'd  stick  six  months  and  I'll  do  it.  That  penny- 
pinching  Skinner  wants  me  to  cut  corners  and  get  myself 
into  trouble  so  he  can  fire  me.  I'll  not  tell  him  the  things 
I  want  to  tell  him,  so  I  guess  I  won't  say  anything — 
much." 

He  didn't.     He  just  wired  Mr.  Skinner  as  follows: 

Any  time  you  want  to  commit  suicide  I  will  furnish 
a  pistol. 

[About  the  beginning  of  March  Mr.  Skinner  opened  his 


208  CAPPY    RICKS 

cold  heart  long  enough  to  let  in  a  little  human  love  and 
get  married,  and  shortly  thereafter  he  found  it  necessary 
to  make  a  business  trip  to  the  redwood  mill  of  the  Ricks 
Lumber  and  Logging  Compan}-  on  Humboldt  Bay.  He 
went  up  on  the  regular  P.  C.  passenger  boat  and  took 
his  bride  with  him,  and  while  he  was  at  the  mill  Matt  Peas- 
ley  came  nosing  in  with  the  Quickstep  and  loaded  a  cargo 
of  redwood  lumber.  He  finished  loading  on  the  same  day 
that  Mr.  Skinner  discovered  he  had  no  further  excuse  for 
remaining  away  from  the  office,  in  consequence  of  which 
the  latter  decided  to  return  to  San  Francisco  on  the 
Quickstep.  This  for  several  very  good  reasons:  The 
food  on  the  Quickstep  was  better  than  the  food  on  the 
regular  liner,  the  accommodations  were  fully  as  good,  the 
vessel  was  loaded  deeply  and  would  ride  steadily — and  Mr. 
Skinner  and  his  bride  would  travel  without  charge. 

The  sight  of  the  Skinners  coming  aboard  was  not  a 
pleasing  one  to  Matt  Peasle}*.  He  did  not  like  Mr.  Skin 
ner  well  enough  to  care  to  eat  at  the  same  table  with  him, 
and  he  bethought  him  now  of  all  the  mean,  nagging  com 
plaints  of  the  past  six  months.  In  particular  he  recalled 
Mr.  Skinner's  instructions  to  him  anent  the  carrying  of 
dead-head  passengers — and  suddenly  he  had  a  brilliant 
idea.  He  sent  for  his  wireless  operator  and  ordered  him 
to  send  this  message : 

Blue  Star  Navigation  Company, 

San  Francisco,  Cal. 

Please  accept  my  resignation  as  master  of  your 
steamer  Quickstep,  said  resignation  to  take  effect  im 
mediately  upon  my  arrival  in  San  Francisco.  Kindly 
have  somebody  on  hand  to  relieve  me. 

Matthew  Peasley. 


INTERNAL  COMBUSTION  209 

Matt  had  just  remembered  that  his  six  months  in  the 
Quickstep  were  up.  His  next  move  was  to  call  on  the 
steward. 

"Go  into  Stateroom  7,"  he  ordered,  "and  collect  fif 
teen  dollars  from  that  man  and  woman  in  there.  They 
came  aboard  without  tickets." 

Two  minutes  later  the  steward  was  back  with  word  that 
the  passengers  in  question  were  dead-heads,  being  none 
other  than  the  manager  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Com 
pany  and  his  wife. 

"Steward,  you  go  back  and  tell  that  man  Skinner  that 
Captain  Peasley  never  carries  any  dead-heads  on  the 
Quickstep.  Tell  him  that  when  Captain  Peasley  wants  to 
carry  a  guest  he  pays  the  guest's  passage  out  of  his  own 
pocket." 

"But  he'll  fire  me,  sir." 

"Do  as  I  order;  he  will  not  fire  you.  I'm  the  only 
man  that  has  that  privilege,  and  I'll  exercise  it  if  you 
don't  obey  me." 

Two  more  minutes  elapsed ;  then  Mr.  Skinner  presented 
himself  at  the  captain's  stateroom. 

"Peasley,"  he  said  sharply,  "What  nonsense  is  this?" 

"No  dead-heads  on  this  ship,  Mr.  Skinner.  Your  own 
orders,  sir.  Fifteen  dollars,  if  you  please.  You're  not  my 
guests." 

"Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Skinner,  "I  shall  do  nothing  of 
the  sort." 

"Then  get  off  the  ship." 

"Sir,  are  you  crazy?" 

"No,  I  am  not;  I'm  just  disgusted  with  you.  Fifteen 
dollars  here  and  now  before  I  cast  off  the  lines,  or  I'll 
run  you  off  the  ship.  Don't  tempt  me.  Skinner.  If  I  ever 
lay  violent  hands  on  you  there'll  be  work  for  a  doctor." 


210  CAPPY    RICKS 

Mr.  Skinner  was  speechless,  but  he  laid  fifteen  dollars 
on  the  captain's  desk  and  returned  to  his  stateroom.  His 
silence  was  ominous.  Five  minutes  later  the  Quickstep 
backed  out  from  the  mill  wharf  and  headed  down  the  bay. 
As  she  plowed  along,  the  rain  commenced  falling  and  a 
stiff  southeast  breeze  warned  Matt  that  he  was  in  for  a 
wet  crossing.  He  was  further  convinced  of  this  when  the 
bar  tug  Ranger  met  him  a  mile  inside  the  entrance.  She 
steamed  alongside,  and,  as  she  passed,  her  captain  hailed 
Matt. 

"Don't  try  to  cross  out,  Peasley,"  he  shouted.  "The 
bar  is  breaking." 

"The  Quickstep  doesn't  mind  it,"  Matt  answered. 

"Don't  try  it,  I  tell  you.  I've  been  twenty  years  on 
Humboldt  Bar  and  I  know  it,  Peasley.  I've  never  seen  it 
so  bad  as  it  is  this  minute." 

"Oh,  we'll  cross  out  without  any  fuss,"  Matt  called 
back  cheerfully,  and  rang  for  full  speed  ahead.  They  were 
down  at  the  entrance,  and  the  Quickstep  had  just  lifted 
to  the  dead  water  from  the  first  big  green  roller,  when  Mr. 
Skinner  came  up  and  touched  Matt  Peasley  on  the  arm. 

"Well,  sir?"  Matt  demanded  irritably. 

"Drop  anchor  inside,  captain.  That  bar  is  too  rough 
to  attempt  to  cross  out." 

"Oh,  nonsense!"  Matt  declared. 

"But  didn't  you  hear  what  that  tug-boat  captain  said? 
He  said  it  was  breaking  worse  than  he  had  known  it  for 
twenty  years." 

"Bah !    What  does  he  know  about  it?" 

"I  don't  care  what  he  knows,  Captain  Peasley ;  I  order 
you  not  to  attempt  to  cross  out.  My  wife  is  aboard  and 
I'll  take  no  chances.  Come  to  anchor  and  wait  for  the  bar 
to  settle." 


INTERNAL  COMBUSTION  21  r 

<fYou  order  me?"  Matt  sneered.  "Who  in  blazes  are 
you  to  give  orders  on  my  ship?  I'm  at  sea,  you  under 
stand,  and  you  have  nothing  to  say.  You'll  give  your  or 
ders  and  I'll  obey  them  when  I'm  at  the  dock,  but  crossing 
Humboldt  Bar,  I'm  the  master  of  ceremonies.  I  can't  turn 
back  now.  I'd  lose  my  rudder  as  I  came  about.  Get  out. 
Who  invited  you  up  here?" 

"How  dare  you,  sir?"  Mr.  Skinner  cried  furiously. 
"Man,  have  you  lost  your  mind?  Obey  me,  I  say." 

Matt  Peasley  laughed  blithely.  "You  miserable,  cold 
blooded,  nagging  old  woman,"  he  said,  and  took  Mr.  Skin 
ner  by  the  nape  and  shook  him.  "I've  prayed  for  this  day. 
Do  you  remember  the  time  you  wired  me  at  Coos  Bay  tfcat 
my  timidity  had  lost  you  some  passenger  traffic?  You 
impugned  my  courage  then,  you  whelp,  and  now  I'm  go 
ing  to  give  you  a  sample  of  it.  All  winter  long  you've 
been  hounding  me,  trying  to  make  me  take  chances  cross 
ing  this  bar,  just  so  the  vessel  might  pick  up  a  couple 
of  hundred  dollars  extra  in  passenger  money.  It  didn't 
matter  to  you  what  risks  other  men's  wives  ran  when  you 
were  snug  in  your  office,  did  it?  You  never  thought  of 
the  passengers  I  had  aboard,  or  the  lives  of  my  crew  or 
me,  did  you?  You  wanted  me  to  cut  corners  and  risk 
human  lives  for  the  sake  of  your  reputation  as  an  efficient 

manager,  you "  And  he  shook  Mr.  Skinner  until  the 

manager's  teeth  rattled.  "Now  you're  aboard  yourself 
with  your  blushing  bride,  and  how  do  you  like  it,  eh  ?  How 
do  you  like  it?  You  know  all  about  navigation,  don't 
you?  Well,  you  and  your  wife  are  the  only  passengers 
this  trip,  and  I'm  going  to  give  you  a  taste  of  salt  water 
you'll  remember  till  your  dying  day,"  and  with  a  shove 
he  sent  Mr.  Skinner  flying  aft  until  he  collided  with  the 
funnel. 


212  CAPPY   RICKS 

"You're  fired !"  Skinner  screamed,  beside  himself  with 
fear  and  rage.  But  Matt  Peasley  was  devoting  all  of 
his  attention  to  the  Quickstep  now ;  and  it  was  well  that 
he  did.  The  vessel  rose  on  the  crest  of  a  green  comber 
"thirty  feet  high,  and  plunged  with  the  speed  of  an  express 
elevator  into  the  valley  between  that  wave  and  the  next. 

A  tremendous  sea  boiled  in  over  the  knight  heads  and 
swept  aft,  burying  the  Quickstep  until  nothing  showed  but 
her  upper  works.  But  she  was  a  sturdy  craft  and  came  up 
from  under  it,  rode  the  succeeding  three  seas  and  was  com 
paratively  free  of  water  when  she  shipped  the  next  one. 
The  crest  of  it  came  in  along  the  little  promenade  deck, 
carrying  away  the  companion  that  led  to  the  bridge,  stav 
ing  in  the  doors  and  windows  of  all  the  staterooms  on  the 
port  side  and  carrying  away  the  rails  and  stanchions. 
There  was  two  feet  of  water  in  Stateroom  7,  where  Mrs. 
Skinner  clung  to  her  husband,  screaming  hysterically. 

But  despite  the  awful  buffeting  she  was  receiving  the 
Quickstep  never  faltered.  On  she  plowed,  riding  the  green 
billows  like  a  gull,  and  shipping  a  sea  only  occasionally. 
The  deckload,  double-lashed,  held,  although  the  deckhouse 
groaned  and  twisted  until  Matt  Peasley  regretted  the  im 
pulse  that  had  impelled  him  to  do  this  foolish  thing  for 
the  sake  of  satisfying  a  grudge. 

"She'll  make  it,  sir,"  the  man  at  the  wheel  called  up ; 
but  Matt's  face  was  a  little  white  and  serious  as  he  tried 
to  smile  back. 

Another  sea  came  ramping  aboard  and  snatched  the 
port  lifeboat  out  of  the  davits,  smashed  in  the  door  of  the 
dining  saloon  and  flooded  it,  gutted  the  galley,  and  drove 
the  cook  and  the  steward  to  the  protection  of  the  engine 
room.  The  chief  called  up  through  the  speaking  tube : 

"How's  the  boss  making  it,  captain?" 


INTERNAL  COMBUSTION  213 

"It's  a  wet  passage  for  him,  chief.  I  can  hear  his  wne 
scream  every  time  we  ship  one." 

"Serves  her  right  for  marrying  the  pest,"  the  chief 
growled,  and  turned  away. 

They  crossed  out,  but  at  a  cost  that  made  Matt  Peasley 
shudder,  when  he  left  the  bridge  in  charge  of  the  mate  and 
went  below  to  take  stock  of  the  damage.  A  new  boat  and 
four  days'  work  for  a  carpenter  gang — perhaps  eighteen 
hundred  dollars'  worth  of  damage,  not  counting  the  de 
murrage  !  It  was  a  big  price  to  pay  for  one  brief  moment 
of  triumph,  but  Matt  Peasley  felt  that  it  would  have  been 
cheap  at  twice  the  money.  He  passed  round  on  the  star 
board  side  of  the  vessel  and  found  Mr.  Skinner  wet  to  the 
skin  and  shivering. 

"We're  over,"  Matt  announced  cheerfully.  "How  did 
you  like  the  going?" 

"You  villain!"  Skinner  cried  passionately.  "You'll 
never  command  another  ship  in  the  Blue  Star  fleet,  I'll 
promise  you  that." 

"I  know  it,  Skinner.  But  if  I  were  you  I'd  go  down 
in  the  engine  room  and  dry  out  while  the  cook  and  the 
steward  straighten  things  round." 

"I'll  discharge  you  the  moment  we  tie  up  at  the  dock  in 
San  Francisco,"  Skinner  stormed. 

"Oh,  no,  you  won't,"  Matt  assured  him.  "I've  beaten 
you  to  it.  I  resigned  by  wireless  before  we  left  the  dock 
at  Eureka." 

That  was  a  long,  cold,  cheerless  trip  for  the  Skinner' 
family.  The  Quickstep  bucked  a  howling  southeaster  all 
the  way  down  the  coast,  and  the  Skinners  were  knocked 
from  one  end  of  their  wet  stateroom  to  the  other  and  slept 
not  a  wink.  It  was  a  frightful  experience,  and  to  add  to 
the  discomfort  of  the  trip  Mrs.  Skinner  wept  all  the  way. 


214  GAPPY    RICKS 

Eventually,  however,  the  Quickstep  tied  up  at  the  wharf 
in  San  Francisco,  and  the  minute  she  was  fast  Matt  Peas- 
ley,  his  accounts  all  made  up  to  date  and  his  clothes  and 
personal  effects  packed,  sprang  out  on  the  dock. 

"There's  your  ship,  Skinner,"  he  called  to  the  general 
manager.  "I'm  through."  And  he  hastened  away  to  the 
Blue  Star  office  to  settle  up  with  the  cashier,  while  Mr. 
Skinner  and  his  bride  entered  a  taxicab  and  were  driven 
to  their  home.  And  two  hours  later  when  Mr.  Skinner, 
warm  and  dry  at  last,  came  down  to  the  office  to  attend 
to  the  task  of  selecting  a  new  master  for  the  Quickstep, 
he  found  Gappy  Ricks  was  back  from  Europe  and  on  the 
job. 

"I  hear  you've  been  having  some  experience,"  said 
Cappy  cheerfully  as  he  shook  hands  with  his  manager. 
"Peasley  was  telling  me  what  he  did  to  you,  and  all  the 
disrespectful  things  he  said  to  you.  Skinner,  my  dear 
fellow,  that  was  an  outrageous  way  for  him  to  act." 

"I  fired  him,"  said  Skinner  waspishly.  "And  while 
we're  on  the  subject  let  me  declare  myself  about  this  man 
Peasley ;  As  long  as  I  remain  in  your  employ,  Mr.  Ricks, 
that  man  must  never  command  another  Blue  Star  vessel. 
Do  I  make  myself  sufficiently  clear?" 

"You  do,  Skinner;  you  do,  indeed,"  Cappy  answered. 
"I  warned  Matt  that  if  you  ever  fired  him,  I'd  have  to 
back  you  up — and  I'll  do  it,  Skinner.  I'll  sustain  your 
decision,  my  boy.  As  long  as  you're  my  manager  that 
fellow  can  never  go  to  sea  under  tHe  Blue  Star  flag.  The 
scoundrel !" 

"And  I  wouldn't  recommend  him  to  any  other  owner 
either,"  Mr.  Skinner  suggested. 

"I'll  not,  Skinner.  He  will  never  go  to  sea  again.  I'm 
not  going  to  have  his  license  taken  away  from  him — er — ; 


INTERNAL  COMBUSTION  215 

Hum!  Ahem!  Harump-h-h-h !  But  I'll  see  that  he 
doesn't  use  it  again.  The  fact  is,  Skinner,  I'm  er — get 
ting — old — and — er — you're  pretty  hard-worked  in  the 
lumber  department,  so  I've — Hum!  Harump-h-h-h!  de 
cided  to  relieve  you  of  the  shipping  entirely  and  hire  Matt 
for  our  port  captain.  He's  on  the  pay  roll  at  three 
hundred  a  month.  And — er — Skinner,  try  to  be  friendly 
with  the  boy  for  my  sake.  The  young  rascal  is  engaged 
to  marry  my  daughter,  and  I — er — it's  barely  possible 
he'll  take  up  the  business — Hum !  Ahem !  I'll  stick  round 
another  year  and  break  him  into  the  landward  side  of 
shipping  and  then,  Skinner,  d'ye  know  what  I'm  going  to 
do  then?" 

"What?"  Mr.  Skinner  asked  dully. 

"I'm  going  to  learn  to  play  golf,"  said  Cappy. 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

SKINNER  PROPOSES AND  CAPPY  RICKS  DISPOSES 

HAVING,  as  he  thought,  evaded  the  spirit  of  Mr.  Skin 
ner's  ultimatum  while  conforming  to  its  literal  terms, 
Cappy  Ricks  hurried  home  leaving  his  general  manager  a 
stunned  and  horrified  man.  In  this  instance,  however, 
Cappy  had  erred  in  his  strategy.  Skinner  was  calm,  cold 
blooded,  suave,  politic  and  deferential,  but  in  his  kind  of 
fight  he  never  bluffed.  He  never  played  his  hand  until  he 
had  sufficient  trumps  to  take  the  odd  trick. 

He  looked  ahead  now,  into  the  not  very  distant  future, 
and  saw  Matt  Peasley,  husband  of  the  heiress  to  the  Ricks 
millions,  giving  him  orders — and  the  vision  did  not  sit 
well  on  the  general  manager's  stomach.  Consequently, 
Mr.  Skinner  decided  for  a  test  of  strength  at  once. 

Accordingly,  when  Cappy  Ricks  came  down  to  the  of 
fice  the  following  morning,  Mr.  Skinner  came  into  the  old 
fellow's  sanctum  and  requested  an  interview. 

"Fire  away,  my  boy,"  said  Cappy  amiably,  yet  with  a 
queer  sinking  feeling  in  his  vitals,  for  he  did  not  like  the 
look  in  Skinner's  eye;  and  something  told  him  there  was 
blood  on  the  moon. 

"With  reference  to  this  rowdy,  Peasley,  whom  you  tell 
me  you  are  going  to  make  port  captain — 

"I  also  told  you,  Skinner,  my  boy,  that  he  is  to  he  my 
son-in-law,"  Cappy  interrupted,  like  a  good  general  bring 
ing  up  his  heavy  artillery  prior  to  ordering  a  charge. 

316 


SKINNER    PROPOSES  217 

beg  of  you,  Skinner,  whatever  your  animosities,  to  bear  in 
mind  the  fact  that  my  daughter  could  not  possibly  engage 
herself  to  a  rowdy." 

"Out  of  respect  to  you  and  Miss  Florence  I  shall  not 
indulge  in  personalities,  sir,"  Mr.  Skinner  replied 
smilingly,  and  Cappy  shuddered,  for  Mr.  Skinner  never 
smiled  in  a  fight  unless  he  had  the  situation  well  in  hand. 
"I  have  merely  called  to  tell  you  that  I  have  invested 
seventy-five  cents  of  my  salary  in  a  stout  hickory  pick- 
handle,  and  the  next  time  Captain  Matt  Peasley  enters 
my  office  I  shall  test  the  quality  of  the  said  pick-handle 
over  his  head.  I  don't  care  if  he  is  engaged  to  your 
daughter;  the  minute  you  bring  that  man  into  this  office 
I  go  out.  You  shall  have  my  resignation  instantly.  That 
decision,  Mr.  Ricks,  is  final  and  irrevocable."  And  with 
out  giving  Cappy  an  instant  for  argument  Mr.  Skinner 
bowed  himself  out. 

A  month  and  Cappy  Ricks  remained  minus  his  port 
captain ;  Mr.  Skinner  was  still  strongly  intrenched  in 
his  job  as  general  manager.  It  was  a  hard  hand  to  beat, 
for  the  fact  of  the  matter  was  that  Cappy  Ricks  simply 
could  not  afford  to  dispense  with  Mr.  Skinner.  The  man 
was  too  honest,  too  conscientious,  too  industrious,  too 
brilliant,  too  efficient,  not  to  be  reckoned  with.  To  part 
with  Skinner  was  like  parting  with  a  dividend-producing 
gold  mine;  it  was  equivalent  to  unloading  on  Cappy's 
shoulders  again  the  burden  of  work  and  worry  that  would 
have  killed  him  ten  years  ago  had  he  not  surrendered  it 
to  Skinner,  who  handled  it  as  a  juggler  handles  nine  balls. 
Moreover,  Skinner  knew  all  of  the  business  secrets  of  the 
Ricks  Lumber  and  Logging  Company  and  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company — why,  he  was  an  integral  part  of 
the  business ;  and,  lastly,  Cappy  was  fond  of  the  man. 


218  CAPPY    RICKS 

Skinner  had  come  to  him  as  office  boy  at  the  tender  age 
of  ten — and  that  was  twenty-five  years  before.  A  daily 
association  for  twenty-five  years  would  make  a  human  be 
ing  like  Cappy  fond  of  the  devil  himself ;  and,  barring  the 
fact  that  he  was  cold-blooded,  Skinner  was  a  fairly  likable 
chap,  and  devoted,  body  and  soul  to  Cappy  Ricks.  The 
longer  Cappy  pondered  the  thought  of  asserting  his 
authority  as  boss  and  defying  Skinner,  the  more  impossible 
the  alternative  became.  Also  the  longer  he  thought  of 
having  Matt  Peasley  kept  out  of  the  business  by  Skinner, 
the  higher  rose  his  gorge,  for  Cappy  had  yearned  for  a 
son  like  Matt  Peasley  and  been  denied.  Now  when  he  had 
planned  successfully  to  do  the  next  best  thing  and  have 
Matt  for  a  son-in-law,  to  be  blocked  by  Skinner  was  un 
bearable.  All  Cappy  could  do  was  to  search  vainly  for 
an  "out,"  and  in  the  interim,  whenever  he  met  Matt 
Peasley  at  his  home,  he  carefully  avoided  all  reference 
to  Matt's  future  in  the  Blue  Star  employ  for  which,  by  the 
way,  Matt  was  eternally  grateful.  He  did  not  care  to 
talk  business  with  Cappy  for  a  month  as  yet.  He  was 
too  happy  with  Cappy's  daughter. 

Another  month  passed.  Cappy  grew  thin  and  lost  his 
relish  for  his  food.  Then  Florence,  being  a  woman,  began 
to  see,  looming  out  of  the  rose-tinted  mist  of  her  happy 
dreams,  a  huge  interrogation  mark. 

She  wondered  what  her  father  intended  doing  for  her 
future  husband ;  and  since  she  was  accustomed  to  bossing 
her  parent  she  spoke  to  Cappy  about  it,  thereby  increasing 
his  mental  agony. 

About  the  same  time  Matt  Peasley  commenced  to 
wonder  also,  but  forbore  to  mention  the  subject  to  Cappy. 
Instead,  he  went  down  to  the  Red  Stack  people  and  got 
himself  a  job  skippering  a  tug;  and  great  was  his  joy 


SKINNER    PROPOSES  219 

thereat,  for  the  wages  were  fully  as  good  as  he  had  enjoyed 
on  the  Quickstep,  and  he  was  enabled  to  spend  nearly 
every  night  in  port.  The  two  months  of  idleness,  albeit 
the  happiest  he  had  ever  known,  had  commenced  to  pall 
on  him,  and  he  wanted  to  be  up  and  doing  once  more. 
Also,  being  a  man,  he  sensed  something  of  the  embarrass 
ment  of  Cappy's  position,  and,  manlike,  decided  to  relieve 
the  old  fellow  of  that  embarrassment.  Matt  concluded 
that  he  would  retain  his  job  as  master  of  the  tug  Sea  Fox 
for  a  few  months — say  six — and  then  ask  Cappy  Ricks 
for  twenty  thousand  dollars,  which  amount  would  by  that 
time  be  to  his  credit  on  the  Blue  Star  books  by  reason  of 
his  half-interest  in  the  seventy-five-dollar-a-day  profit  he 
and  Cappy  had  annexed  when  rechartering  the  steamer 
Unicorn.  With  that  amount  of  money  in  hand,  plus  the 
savings  from  his  salary,  he  planned  to  marry  Cappy's 
daughter  and  go  into  business  for  himself  as  a  ship,  freight 
and  marine  insurance  broker. 

Mr.  Skinner  heard  of  Matt  Peasley's  appointment  as 
master  of  the  tug  Sea  Fox  several  hours  before  the  same 
information  reached  Matt  himself.  The  general  manager 
of  the  tugboat  company,  scanning  Matt's  application  and 
having  a  vacancy  to  fill,  called  up  Mr.  Skinner. 

"Say,  Skinner,"  he  said,  "I  have  an  application  for  a 
job  as  master  for  one  of  our  tugs  from  Captain  Matthew 
Peasley.  He  tells  me  he  was  a  couple  of  years  under  the 
Blue  Star  flag,  from  A.  B.  to  master  of  steam  and  sail, 
with  an  unlimited  license.  Is  he  a  good  man?" 

"We  never  had  a  more  capable  skipper  in  our  employ," 
said  Mr.  Skinner  truthfully. 

"Why  did  you  let  him  go  then?" 

"He  resigned." 

"Under  fire?" 


220  CAPPY    RICKS 

"No,  he  quit  voluntarily." 

"Honest?" 

"Very." 

"Then  what's  wrong  with  him?" 

"He  doesn't  like  me.  But  he's  capable  and  fearless  and 
a  devil  on  wheels.  He'll  take  a  ship  anywhere  and  bring 
her  out  again  whole." 

"Then  he's  my  huckleberry.  That's  the  kind  of  man 
for  a  tugboat  skipper,"  was  the  reply,  and  Matt  Peasley 
had  the  job,  greatly  to  the  joy  of  Mr.  Skinner,  who  real 
ized  now  that  his  ultimatum  to  Cappy  Ricks  had  been  a 
knockout  blow.  Cappy  had  surrendered,  and  the  rowdy 
Matt,  having  given  up  hope  of  a  snug  berth  as  port  cap 
tain  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company,  had  in  despair 
sought  a  job  with  a  tugboat  company. 

Mr.  Skinner  was  so  happy  he  shelved  his  office  (dignity 
long  enough  to  whistle  a  popular  ballad  that  had  been 
running  through  his  mind  of  late.  All  too  gladly  had  he 
recommended  Matt  Peasley  for  that  tugboat  job!  He 
would  have  employed  anything,  short  of  dishonorable 
methods,  to  rid  the  Blue  Star  of  that  incubus! 

Cappy  Ricks  almost  wept  with  rage  when  his  daughter 
informed  him  that  Matt  had  gone  back  to  salt  water.  She 
was  a  little  indignant  over  it,  and  demanded  a  show-down 
from  her  unhappy  father,  who  looked  at  her  miserably  and 
said  he'd  think  it  over. 

He  did.  Every  afternoon,  upon  his  return  from  lunch 
eon  he  slid  down  on  his  spine  in  his  upholstered  swivel 
chair,  draped  his  old  shanks  over  his  desk,  dropped  his 
chin  on  his  breast,  closed  his  eyes  and  went  into  a  clinch 
with  the  awful  problem,  with  all  its  dips,  spurs  and  angles. 
Save  for  the  nervous  clasping  and  unclasping  of  his  ha»ds 
one  would  have  thought  him  sound  asleep. 


SKINNER    PROPOSES  221 

For  a  month  no  gleam  of  light  filtered  through  the  deep 
gloom  of  the  old  gentleman's  predicament.  A  dozen  times 
had  he  reached  forth  to  press  the  push-button  on  his  desk, 
summon  Skinner  and  force  the  latter  to  do  one  of  two 
things ;  recede  from  his  position  or  resign  as  general  man 
ager.  Ten  times  he  had  paused  with  his  finger  on  the 
push-button.  He  simply  could  NOT  afford  to  dispense 
with  Skinner!  The  eleventh  time,  however,  grown  des 
perate  from  much  brooding  over  his  unhappy  lot,  Gappy 
pressed  the  button. 

"Send  Mr.  Skinner  in,"  he  commanded  bravely  to  the 
boy  who  answered  his  summons. 

Mr.  Skinner  entered  and  stood  awaiting  Cappy's 
pleasure.  On  the  instant  the  old  fellow  was  overcome  by 
panic.  Frantically  he  sought  an  "out." 

"Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he  purred,  "has  it  occurred 
to  3rou  that  young  Tommy,  the  office  boy,  has  been  here 
long  enough,  and  behaved  himself  well  enough,  to  merit  a 
raise  of  about  ten  dollars  a  month?" 

Mr.  Skinner  was  a  natural  conservative  and  considerable 
of  a  pessimist. 

''"Well,  I  daresay  he  has,  although  I  hadn't  given  the 
matter  any  thought,  sir.  However,  the  way  lumber  has 
been  selling  the  past  few  months,  we  ought  to  be  cutting 
salaries  instead  of  raising  them." 

"I  know,  Skinner,  I  know.  But  a  boy  needs  some 
encouragement ;  he  has  to  have  some  concrete  evidence  of 
appreciation,  er — er — attend  to  it ,  Skinner,  my  boy, 
attend  to  it." 

Mr.  Skinner  nodded  and  retired,  leaving  Cappy  to  grit 
his  teeth  and  curse  himself  for  a  poltroon.  "It's  certainly 
hell  when  a  man  of  my  age  and  financial  rating  stands 
between  his  love  and  duty,"  he  mourned.  "Darn  that 


222  CAPPY    RICKS 

fellow  Skinner.  If  my  bluff  should  fail  to  work  and  he  got 
on  his  high  horse  and  quit,  I'd  have  to  climb  off  my  high 
horse  and  beg  him  to  return  to  work.  And  he  knows  it. 
He  knows  I've  been  taking  it  easy  so  long  I  never  could 
bring  myself  to  take  up  the  burden  of  active  business 
again.  Money !  What  does  money  mean  if  it  can't  buy 
happiness?  Drat  that  devilish  Skinner.  I  wish  to  jiminy 
he  had  the  burden  of  my  dollars " 

He  paused,  overcome  by  a  sudden  brilliant  thought. 
"Bully  for  you,  Alden  P.,  you  old,  three-ply,  copper- 
riveted,  reinforced,  star-spangled  jack-ass  !"  he  murmured, 
"Why  didn't  you  think  of  it  before  and  save  yourself  all 
this  grief?" 

His  hand  shot  out  once  more  to  the  push-button.  "Send 
in  Mr.  Hankins,  sonny,"  he  ordered  the  office  boy. 

Mr.  Hankins  was  the  cashier;  also  secretary  of  all  of 
Cappy's  companies,  of  which  Mr.  Skinner  was  first  vice 
president.  He  entered  and  stood  deferentially  beside 
Cappy's  desk. 

"Hankins,  my  dear  boy,  bring  me  the  stock  certificates 
for  my  holdings  in  the  Ricks  Lumber  and  Logging  Com 
pany  and  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company.  I  am 
going  to  indorse  them,  after  which  I  wish  you  would  reissue 
the  stock  to  me,  less  one  hundred  shares  of  each  in  the 
name  of  Mr.  Skinner.  Say  nothing  to  Mr.  Skinner  about 
this  and  bring  the  new  certificates  to  me  immediately." 

When  Hankins  had  complied  with  his  request  Cappy 
Ricks  placed  the  Skinner  certificates  in  his  pocket  and 
went  uptown  to  the  office  of  his  attorney.  He  returned 
to  his  office  within  an  hour  and  immediately  sent  for  Mr. 
Skinner. 

"Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  began  Cappy  affably,  "sit 
idown.  I  want  to  have  a  very  serious  talk  with  you.'' 


SKINNER    PROPOSES  223 

"Nothing  wrong,  I  trust,"  Skinner  began  apprehen 
sively,  for  Cappj's  air  was  very  portentous. 

"If  there  was,"  Capy  snapped,  "you  wouldn't  be  here 
to-day.  Some  other  fellow  would  be  holding  down  your 
job,  and,  I  dare  say,  giving  poor  satisfaction — by  the 
way,  my  dear  Skinner,  something  which  you  have  never 
done." 

Mr.  Skinner  flushed  pleasurably  and  thanked  his 
employer. 

"Some  twenty-five  years  ago,"  Cappy  continued,  "you 
entered  my  employ  as  a  spindle-legged  office  boy.  To-day 
you  are  my  general  manager,  and  a  rattling  good  one, 
too,  even  if  we  do  have  our  little  run-in  together  ever  so 
often.  We  musn't  pay  any  attention  to  that,  however, 
for  a  fight  is  good  for  a  man,  Skinner.  I  maintain  that 
it  brings  out  all  of  his  virtues  and  vices  where  one  can 
have  an  unobstructed  view  of  them.  However,  passing 
that,  I  decided  a  long  time  ago,  Skinner,  that  you  are 
entitled  to  more  than  a  mere  salary " 

"My  salary  has  been  eminently  satisfactory,  sir " 

Mr.  Skinner  began. 

"Don't  be  an  ass,  Skinner,"  Cappy  interrupted  tartly. 
"I  wouldn't  give  two  hoots  in  hell  for  a  satisfied  man, 
unless  he's  his  own  man — understand.  You  should  have 
a  more  vital  interest  in  the  Ricks  Lumber  and  Logging 
Company  and  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company.  We 
always  make  our  skippers  own  a  piece  of  the  vessels  they 
command,  so  they  will  not  be  tempted  to  rob  us,  for  in 
robbing  us  they  rob  themselves.  Consequently,  thinking 
it  over,  Skinner,  I  have  decided  to  make  you  own  a  piece 
of  both  the  companies  you  manage,  not  because  you  may 
rob  them  but  because  I  want  to  reward  you  for  faithful 
service.  I  had  planned  to  do  this  in  my  will,  but  I  feel 


224  CAPPY    RICKS 

so  healthy  lately  I  think  I'll  live  a  long  time  yet,  and  there 
isn't  any  real  sense  in  keeping  you  waiting.  What  is  the 
book  valuation  of  the  Ricks  L.  &  L.  stock?" 

"Three  hundred  eighty-seven  thirteen,  according  to  the 
last  annual  report,"  replied  Skinner  glibly.  His  eyes 
glistened. 

"And  the  Blue  Star  stock?" 

"Four  hundred  thirty-two  twenty-seven." 

"Hump!  Harump-h-h!  It  will  be  worth  more  when 
the  Panama  Canal  is  opened.  We'll  have  a  crack  at  the 
Atlantic  Seaboard  market  with  our  Pacific  Coast  lumber, 
and  the  water  freight  will  knock  the  rail  rate  silly.  Besides, 
I'm  going  to  buy  up  a  couple  of  large  freighters,  or 
build  them,  and  that  stock  of  yours  will  pay  dividends 
then.  I'll  soak  you  four  hunderd  per  share  for  the  Blue 
Star  stock.  Is  that  satisfactory?" 

Nobody  knew  better  than  Mr.  Skinner  the  fact  that 
the  Blue  Star  stock  at  the  book  valuation  was  appraised 
very  conservatively.  He  nodded. 

"Lumber  market's  up  and  down,  down  and  up,  and  we 
never  know  where  we  stand.  Give  you  that  at  two-fifty  a 
share.  Want  it?" 

"I  should  say  I  do!"  Skinner  gasped. 

"Then  you  owe  me  sixty-five  thousand  dollars.  I'll 
take  your  promissory  note  for  it  at  five  per  cent.,  and  you 
can  pay  the  note  out  of  your  salary  and  the  dividends. 
You'll  be  in  the  clear  in  ten  years  at  the  very  latest ;  the 
stock  I'm  selling  you  now  will  be  worth  a  hundred  thousand 
— with  your  management.  Here's  the  contract,  which 
embodies  a  promissory  note.  Sign  it,  endorse  the  stock  to 
me  to  secure  the  payment  of  the  note,  and  then  clear  out 
of  here.  Not  a  peep  out  of  you,  sir,  not  a  peep.  If  yor 
say  'Thank  you'  I'll  change  my  mind  about  selling." 


SKINNER    PROPOSES  225 

Mr.  Skinner's  hand  trembled  a  little  as  he  wrote  His 
name  across  the  backs  of  the  stock  certificates  and 
appended  the  same  clear,  concise  signature  to  the  note. 
Silently  he  wrung  Cappy's  hand. 

"Get  out,"  rasped  Gappy.     Mr.  Skinner  got  out. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 

CAPPY'S    PLANS    DEMOLISHED 

FOUR  more  months  passed,  and  peace  reigned  in  the 
offices  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company.  Matt 
Peasley's  name  had  never  been  mentioned  in  Mr.  Skinner's 
presence  since  that  dark  day  when  he  had  ventured,  for 
the  first  time  in  his  career,  to  lay  down  the  law  to  Cappy 
Ricks.  The  pick-handle  still  reposed  behind  Skinner's 
desk,  but  that  was  merely  because  he  had  forgotten  all 
about  it,  and  nobody  ever  touched  any  of  his  property 
without  his  permission.  Not  once  had  Matt  Peasley's 
cheerful  countenance  darkened  the  Skinner  horizon. 

This,  then,  was  the  condition  of  affairs  when  the  office 
boy  carried  to  Mr  .Skinner  a  piece  of  disquieting  informa 
tion — to  wit,  that  Captain  Matt  Peasley  was  without  and 
desired  to  hold  speech  with  Mr.  Ricks. 

"Tell  him  Mr.  Ricks  is  too  busy  to  see  him,"  Skinner 
ordered.  Not  having  heard  anything  of  Matt  for  six 
months  he  concluded  that  the  latter's  affair  with  the  boss' 
daughter  had  languished  and  died  a  natural  death ;  hence 
he  felt  that  he  could  defy  Matt  with  impunity.  Judge 
of  his  surprise,  therefore,  when  a  heavy  hand  was  laid  on 
his  shoulder  later  and  Matt  Peasley  stood  glaring  dowi: 
at  him. 

"Well,  sir!"  said  Skinner  coolly. 

**I  heard  you  had  a  pick-handle  waiting  here  for  me," 
Matt  replied  evenly,  "so  I  just  dropped  in  to  tell  you  that 

226 


CAPPY'S  PLANS  DEMOLISHED        227 

if  you  ever  pull  a  pick-handle  on  me  I'll  take  it  away  from 
you  and  ram  it  down  your  throat.  That's  all  I  have  to 
say  to  you,  Mr.  Skinner.  If,  the  next  time  I  call,  at  Mr. 
Ricks'  invitation,  to  see  him,  you  intercept  my  message 
and  try  to  block  my  game " 

The  great  Peasley  hand  closed  over  Mr.  Skinner's  necl 
and  felt  of  it  tentatively. 

"Ouch!"  gasped  Mr.  Skinner. 

"Admit  the  brother,"  Matt  called  to  an  imaginary 
sentry  behind  Cappy's  door.  "He  has  given  the  password. 
The  lodge  has  been  duly  opened  and  we  are  now  ready  for 
business." 

He  smiled  at  Mr.  Skinner  and  passed  on  into  C&ppy 
Ricks'  office. 

"Well,  Matt,"  the  latter  hailed  him  pleasantly,  "it's 
been  a  long  time  since  I've  seen  you  in  this  office." 

"And  it'll  be  a  long  time  till  }rou  see  me  here  again,  sir," 
Matt  retorted  pleasantly.  "I  was  about  to  call  on  you 
when  your  message  reached  me.  So  suppose  you  tell  me 
your  business  first.  Then  I'll  tell  you  mine." 

"No,  you  won't,  Matt,"  Cappy  challenged  him,  "because 
hereafter  you're  not  going  to  have  any  business  unless  I 
have  a  finger  in  it  too.  Matt,  my  son,  do  you  recall  the 
day  you  quit  the  Quickstep?" 

"With  pleasure,"  Matt  assured  him  whimsically. 

"You're  vindi-tive;  but  no  matter.  Skinner  declared 
you  should  never  again  command  a  Blue  Star  ship  while 
he  was  in  my  employ,  and  I  said,  by  George,  that  was 
right — you  shouldn't.  I  said  I  was  going  to  make  you 
our  port  captain,  and  eventually  place  you  in  charge  of 
the  shipping  after  I  had  broken  you  in." 

"I  have  a  curiosity,  sir,  to  know  why  you  didn't  go 
through  with  that  program." 


228  CAPPY    RICKS 

"Skinner  wouldn't  let  me — said  he'd  quit  if  I  did,  and 
I  just  couldn't  afford  to  lose  him,  Matt.  However,  I  have 
all  that  fixed  up  now,  so  you  quit  that  tugboat  job  of 
yours  and  come  to  work  here  as  soon  as  you  can.  I  could 
have  put  you  to  work  three  months  ago,  right  after  I 
sewed  Skinner  up,  but  I  thought  I'd  wait  a  little  while 
just  to  save  poor  Skinner's  face."  Gappy  commenced  to 
chuckle  softly.  "In-fer-nal  rascal !"  he  declared.  "He  had 
me  where  the  hair  is  short,  Matt;  he  had  me  where  I 
dassen't  defy  my  own  general  manager !  Yes,  sir,  that  was 
the  long  and  short  of  it.  I  dassen't  call  his  bluff,  because 
he  doesn't  bluff  worth  a  cent,  and  I  happen  to  know  some 
of  iny  competitors  would  like  to  get  him  away  from  me.  A 
good  man  is  always  in  demand,  Matt;  never  forget  that. 
You  see,  Skinner  has  been  carrying  the  burden  of  this 
business  for  the  past  ten  years  practically,  and  he  threat 
ened  to  toss  that  burden  back  on  me.  Well,  if  he  had, 
Matt,  I  just  couldn't  have  carried  it  without  competent 
help — and  by  the  time  I  had  competent  help  broken  in 
they'd  be  measuring  me  for  a  tombstone." 

"How  did  you  whip  him  into  line?"  Matt  demanded. 

"Just  like  spearing  fish  in  a  dry  lake,  boy,"  Cappy 
chuckled.  "I  just  sold  Mr.  Skinner  part  of  that  burden, 
and  now  he  has  to  carry  it  all  until  he  dies,  because  if  he 
drops  it  he  loses  what  I  sold  him.  Only  one  way  to  whip 
that  boy  into  line,  Matt,  and  that  is  to  pelt  him  with 
dollars." 

"But  I  do  not  see  how  that  affects  me,"  Matt  answered. 

"You  don't,  eh?  Why,  you're  the  port  captain  of  the 
Blue  Star  Navigation  Company,  you-you-you  bonehead, 
and  Skinner  has  to  stand  for  you  now  whether  he  likes  it 
or  not.  He'll  not  sacrifice  his  future  to  vent  his  grudge 
against  you,  because  he  is  a  business  man,  Matt,  and  he 


CAPPY'S  PLANS  DEMOLISHED         229 

knows  it's  mighty  poor  business  to  bite  off  his  nose  to 
spite  his  face.  So  you  just  come  to  work." 

Matt  Peasley  beamed  across  at  his  future  father-in-law. 

"That  was  well  done,  sir,"  he  said,  "and  I  wish  I  had 
known  you  were  going  to  do  it.  I  would  have  saved  you 
the  trouble,  because,  you  see,  I  never  intended  to  go 
;to  work  for  you  in  this  office  anyhow." 

"The  devil  you  say!"  Gappy  interrupted.  "Well,  you 
just  put  some  reverse  English  on  those  intentions  of  yours, 
my  boy.  I  know  what's  good  for  you." 

But  Matt  Peasley  only  shook  his  head. 

"I  can't  do  it,  sii  „"  he  said.  "While  deeply  appreciative 
of  all  you  want  to  do  for  me,  the  fact  is,  if  I'm  going  to 
marry  your  daughter — and  I  am — I'm  not  going  to  do  it 
on  your  money  and  be  dependent  upon  you  for  a  job.  I'll 
be  my  own  man,  Mr.  Ricks.  I  never  ask  odds  of  any  man, 
and  I  don't  like  to  work  for  a  relative." 

"Damn  your  Yankee  independence,"  snapped  Gappy 
angrily.  "Why  do  you  oppose  me?" 

"Because  I'll  not  have  anybody  saying:  'There  goes 
Matt  Peasley.  He  fell  into  a  good  thing.  Yes,  indeed! 
Used  to  be  a  common  A.  B.  until  Alden  P.  Ricks'  daughter 
fell  in  love  with  him — and  of  course  after  that  he  went 
right  up  the  line  in  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company, 
He's  a  lucky  stiff.'  " 

"What  do  you  care  what  people  say?  I  know  what  I 
want." 

"I  do  care  what  they  say,  and  I  care  what  I  feel.  I 
want  to  fight  my  own  way.  I  want  to  make  a  wad  of 
money  and  build  up  a  business  of  my  own " 

"You're  crazy !  Why,  here's  one  ready-made,  and  it  will 
stand  all  kinds  of  building  up 

"Then  let  Skinner  build  it.     I'll  build  my  own.     I  do 


230  GAPPY    RICKS 

not  want  anybody  to  think  I  married  your  daughter  for 
your  money." 

"Matt,  you  poor,  chuckleheaded  boy,  listen  to  me.  I 
intend  doing  for  you " 

"And  that,"  roared  Matt  Peasley,  smiting  the  desk,  "is 
*ihe  very  reason  why  I  shall  not  permit  you  to  do  anything 
for  me.  That's  final,  Mr.  Ricks.  I  hope  you  will  realize 
it's  useless  to  argue  with  me." 

"I  ought  to  by  this  time,"  Cappy  replied  bitterly. 
"Very  well,  I've  told  you  my  business  with  you.  Suppose 
you  state  your  business  with  me." 

"I'd  like  to  draw  twenty  thousand  dollars  from  my 
credit  on  the  Blue  Star  books." 

"Huh !  So  you  want  to  dig  into  that  money  the  rechar- 
ter  of  the  Unicorn  is  bringing  you,  eh,  Matt?" 

"If  you  can  spare  it,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"Of  course  I  can  spare  it — only  I'll  not.  If  you  wint 
that  money,  Matt,  sue  for  it ;  and  since  you  haven't  any 
documents  to  prove  you  have  it  coming  to  you,  I  suppose 
you  will  agree  with  me  that  a  suit  would  be  useless  expendi 
ture  of  time,  money  and  energy." 

"Then  you  will  not  give  me  the  money,  sir?"  Matt 
Peasley  demanded. 

"Not  a  red,"  said  Cappy  calmly.  "We've  fought  this 
whole  matter  out  before,  so  why  argue?" 

"Why,  indeed,"  Matt  answered,  and  reached  for  his 
hat.  He  was  fighting  mad  and  desired  to  go  away  before 
he  quarreled  with  Cappy. 

"I'll  go  downstairs  to  the  cigar  stand  and  shake  you 
the  dice,  one  flop,  to  see  whether  you  go  into  business  for 
yourself  or  come  to  work  for  me,"  Cappy  pleaded. 

Matt  came  to  him  and  placed  his  great  hands  on  the 
old  man's  shoulder. 


CAPPY'S  PLANS  DEMOLISHED         231 

"You're  the  finest  man  I  ever  knew,  Mr.  Ricks,"  he 
said,  "and  you're  the  meanest  man  I  ever  knew,  so  I'll  not 
shake  dice  with  you.  You're  too  fond  of  having  your  own 
way " 

"Yes,  and  you're  the  same,  blast  you !"  Cappy  shrilled, 
losing  his  temper  entirely.  "Wait  till  you're  my  age. 
There  won't  be  any  standing  you  at  all.  Get  out !" 


CHAPTER    XXXIV 

A   GIFT   FROM   THE   GODS 

THE  barkentine  Retriever,  lumber  laden  from  Astoria 
to  San  Francisco,  lay  under  the  lee  of  Point  Reyes  in  a 
dead  calm.  It  was  a  beautiful,  moonlit  night,  with  the 
sea  as  smooth  as  a  fishpond,  and  Captain  Michael  J. 
Murphy,  albeit  a  trifle  surprised  at  his  proximity  to  the 
California  coast — the  result  of  three  days  and  nights  of 
thick  fog,  which  had  suddenly  lifted — was  not  particularly 
worried.  At  eight  o'clock  he  turned  in,  after  warning 
the  mate  to  call  him  in  case  the  Retriever  should  drift 
inshore. 

"Never  fear,  sir,"  the  mate  replied.  "We'll  have  a  puff 
of  wind  about  daylight  at  the  latest,  and  the  current  sets 
north  and  south  here  rather  than  toward  the  beach." 

For  two  hours  after  Captain  Murphy  had  retired  the 
Retriever  rose  and  fell  gently  on  the  slightest  swell,  her 
booms  and  yards  swinging  idly  amidships,  her  sails  and 
cordage  slatting  listlessly  as  the  vessel  rolled. 

Suddenly  the  lookout  shouted:  "Steamer  on  the  port 
bow!"  and  the  mate,  following  the  direction  indicated, 
made  out  the  red  and  green  sidelights  and  the  single  white 
light  at  the  short  masthead  of  the  approaching  vessel. 

"Tug,"  he  announced  to  the  man  at  the  wheel.  "Good 
enough!  The  lookout  at  Point  Reyes  reported  us,  and 
the  owners  have  sent  a  tug  out  to  snake  us  in." 

The  mate's  prognostication  was  correct  in  some  particu- 

232 


A  GIFT  FROM  THE  GODS  233 

lars,  for  in  about  half  an  hour  the  tug  steamed  slowly 
alongside  the  Retriever  and  hailed  her. 

"Barkentine,  ahoy !" 

"Ahoy!  Retriever,  of  the  Blue  Star,  Astoria  for  San 
Francisco." 

"Sea  Fox,  of  the  Red  Stack  Line.  Is  Captain  Murphy 
on  deck?" 

"No,  but  I'll  send  for  him,"  the  mate  shouted,  and 
forthwith  sent  a  man  below  to  rout  out  the  skipper.  When 
Murphy  came  on  deck  and  hailed  the  tug  he  nearly  fainted 
at  the  information  that  came  floating  across  the  water. 

"Murphy,  this  is  Matt  Peasley  speaking." 

"Not  Matt  Peasley  that  used  to  command  this  old 
box " 

"Don't  speak  disrespectfully  of  my  first  command, 
Mike " 

"And  you're  only  a  tug  captain — a  dirty,  thieving, 
piratical  towboat  man,  holding  up  every  honest  skipper 
that  pokes  his  nose  into  San  Francisco  Bay.  Matt,  I'm 
ashamed  of  you.  How  are  you  anyhow?" 

"Fine,  Mike.     Want  a  tow?" 

"I  don't  need  one ;  I'll  have  a  bit  of  breeze  before  long. 
I'm  independent  of  you !" 

The  tug  crept  in  closer.  "Don't  be  foolish,  Mike; 
better  let  me  slip  you  a  line." 

"How  much  will  it  cost,  Matt?  None  of  your  highway 
robbery  now.  Be  easy  on  the  Retriever  for  old  times' 
sake." 

"A  thousand  dollars,"  Matt  Peasley  answered  pleas 
antly,  and  was  rewarded  with  a  volley  of  oaths  from  Mike 
Murphy  and  his  crew. 

"You're  a  thief !"  yelled  Murphy. 

"And  you're  a  fool,  Mike.     You're  not  more  than  tw* 


234  CAPPY    RICKS 

miles  off  the  breakers,  you're  in  a  calm  that  may  last  two 
days,  and  when  the  tide  is  at  flood  you'll  set  in  on  the 
beach  as  sure  as  death  and  taxes — and  then  I'll  have  a 
salvage  job  that  will  cost  your  owners  not  one  thousand 
but  ten." 

"You  go  to  the  <3evil!"  was  Murphy's  reply  to  this, 
and  the  Sea  Fox  dropped  astern  and  came  round  on  the 
starboard  bow  of  the  Retriever.  In  she  backed,  a  foot  at 
a  time,  and  Captain  Murphy,  up  on  the  topgallant 
fo'castle,  was  within  easy  conversational  distance  of  Matt 
Peasley,  standing  on  the  grating  at  the  stern  of  the  Sea 
Fox. 

"Better  grab  this  heaving  line,  Mike,"  Matt  suggested. 

"Come  aboard  and  have  a  drink,  Matt,  but  leave  your 
line  behind  you,"  Murphy  answered  hospitably. 

The  Sea  Fox  drifted  down  fifteen  or  twenty  feet,  swung 
slowly,  headed  out  to  sea,  and  then  backed  gingerly  in 
until  her  stern  was  within  a  few  feet  of  the  side  of  the 
Retriever. 

"Hey,  you!  What  d'ye  mean  to  do?  Back  into  her?" 
yelled  Matt  Peasley  to  his  mate.  "Full  speed  ahead! 
Quick!" 

A  bell  jangled  in  the  bowels  of  the  Sea  Fox,  her  great 
screw  churned  the  water  and  she  shot  out  from  the  Re 
triever. 

"That's  right !  Go  clear  over  to  China,  and  expect  me 
to  haggle  with  this  man  through  the  megaphone,  eh?" 
Matt  roared.  "Back  up  again!" 

"I  tell  you,  Matt,  there  isn't  the  slightest  use  hanging 
round  for  us,"  Murphy  warned  the  towboat  skipper.  "I 
wouldn't  let  the  ship  be  held  up  by  anybody,  least  of  all 
a  towboat  man." 

"Well,   when   the   lookout   on   Point   Reyes   telephoned 


A  GIFT  FROM  THE  GODS  235 

into  our  office  that  the  Retriever  was  inside  the  Point,  I 
made  up  my  mind  I'd  come  out  and  get  her,  and  I  don't 
purpose  being  disappointed,"  Matt  replied  jokingly.  "I'll 
just  wait  until  you  drift  into  the  breakers,  and  then  you'll 
do  business  with  me,  never  fear." 

"G'wan!"  snorted  Murphy.  "How's  Gappy  Ricks,  the 
old  villain?" 

"He's  fine,  Mike.  He  wanted  me  to  work  for  him,  but 
I  don't  like  his  general  manager — Mr.  Olson,  full  speed 
ahead  or  you'll  smash  our  stern  against  this  barkentine. 
Steady !  That's  better.  Astern  a  trifle.  Steady !  Mike, 
jou  been  since  I  saw  you  last?*' 


CHAPTER    XXXV 

A    DIRTY    YANKEE    TRICK 

"SKINNER,"  said  Cappy  Ricks,  "I  was  called  out  of  my 
bed  at  five  o'clock  this  morning  by  the  night  operator  at 
the  Merchants'  Exchange.  He  told  me  our  Retriever  was 
in  the  breakers  just  south  of  Point  Reyes,  but  that  a  tug 
was  standing  by.  What  have  you  heard  since?" 

"She  drifted  in  there  in  a  calm  last  night,  sir,"  Mr. 
Skinner  replied.  "Fortunately  the  Point  Reyes  lookout 
had  reported  her  early  yesterday  evening,  and  one  of  the 
Red  Stack  tugs — the  Sea  Fox — took  a  chance  and  went 
out  seeking.  Lucky  thing  for  us " 

"The  tug  hauled  her  off  then?" 

"Got  a  line  aboard  just  in  time.  I  had  a  telephone 
message  from  Captain  Murphy  at  Meiggs  Wharf  ten 
minutes  ago.  The  Retriever  is  anchored  in  the  fairway." 

"What  tug  did  you  say  it  was?"  Cappy  queried. 

"The  Sea  Fox." 

"That's  Matt  Peasley's  command,"  Cappy  mused. 
"Lucky?  I  should  say  we  are!  It's  up  to  the  master 
of  the  tug  very  frequently  whether,  under  such  conditions, 
his  task  has  been  a  mere  towage  job  at  the  going  rates 
or  a  salvage  proposition  to  be  settled  in  court.  I  dare 
say  Matt  will  give  us  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  and  call  it 
towage." 

"Don't  deceive  yourself!"  Skinner  snapped.  "It's  sal 
vage;  Murphy  said  so.  After  he  got  close  in  Peaslcy 

236 


A  DIRTY  YANKEE  TRICK  237 

refused  to  name  a  price  and  came  aboard  and  made 
Murphy  sign  a  paper  acknowledging  that  his  ship  was  in 
distress  and  dire  peril,  before  he  would  even  put  a  line 
aboard  him " 

"Wow !  Wow !  The  tugboat  company  will  libel  the  ship 
now,  and  sue  us  for  fifty  thousand  dollars'  salvage  on 
vessel  and  cargo,"  and  Cappy  groaned,  for  he  owned 
Tooth.  "By  George !"  he  continued.  "I  didn't  think  Matt 
would  do  anything  like  that  to  me.  No,  sir !  If  any 
body  had  told  me  that  boy  could  be  such  an  ingrate  I'd 
have  told  him " 

A  youth  entered  Cappy's  office  uninvited. 

"Captain  Peasley  to  see  you,  sir,"  he  said. 

*Show  the  infernal  fellow  in,"  rasped  Cappy,  and  Matt 
Peasley  stalked  into  the  room. 

"I  should  like  to  see  you  privately,  Mr.  Ricks,"  he 
announced,  and  cast  a  significant  glance  at  Skinner,  who 
took  the  hint  and  left  the  room  at  once. 

Matt  sat  down.  "Well,"  he  said,  "I  guess  the  tug 
Sea  Fox  and  owners,  together  with  her  doughty  skipper 
and  crew,  will  finger  some  of  your  hard -earned  dollars 
before  long,  Mr.  Ricks.  I  pulled  your  barkentine 
Retriever  out  of  the  breakers  this  morning.  In  fifteen 
minutes  she  would  have  been  on  the  beach  and  a  total 
loss — and  I  have  a  document,  signed  by  Captain  Murphy 
and  his  mates,  to  prove  it.  I  offered  the  pig-headed 
eellow  a  tow  at  ten  o'clock  the  night  before,  but  he 
declined  it — trying  to  save  a  few  dollars,  of  course — so 
when  I  had  him  where  he  had  to  have  my  services " 

"Well !"  Cappy  snapped,  "send  your  owners  round  and 
we'll  try  to  settle  out  of  court.  If  they're  hogs  we'll 
fight  'em,  that's  all." 

"And  if  you  do  you'll  get  licked.     We'll  get  a  quarter 


238  CAPPY    RICKS 

of  the  value  of  that  vessel  and  her  cargo.  She's  easily 
worth  fifty  thousand  dollars  and  her  cargo  is  worth 
thirty  thousand  more — that's  eighty  thousand,  and  a 
quarter  of  eighty  thousand  dollars  is  twenty  thousand." 

"You'll  have  to  fight  for  it,  I  tell  you,"  Cappy 
reiterated. 

"There  is  no  necessity  for  a  fight,  Mr.  Ricks.  It  aH 
rests  with  me  whether  this  is  a  salvage  job  or  just  a  plain 
towing  job  at  the  customary  rates." 

Cappy  looked  at  his  ex-skipper  keenly. 

"Matt,"  he  charged,  "you've  got  a  scheme.  Yoa  want 
something." 

"I  do ;  I  want  to  save  you  a  lot  of  fuss  and  worry  wnd 
expense.  In  return  I  want  you  to  do  something  for 
me." 

"I'll  do  it,  Matt.     What  is  the  program?" 

"Give  me  that  twenty  thousand  dollars  you  justly  owe 
me — twenty  thousand  dollars  I  have  to  my  credit  on  yaw 
books,  which  you  are  withholding  just  because  you  have 
the  power  to  withhold  it." 

"And  in  return " 

"I'll  tear  up  the  deadly  document  I  extorted  from 
Murphy  and  retiort  a  mere  towage  job  to  my  owners." 

Cappy  pressed  the  push-button  and  a  boy  appeared. 

"Tell  Mr.  Skinner  I  want  to  see  him,"  he  ordered,  and 
an  instant  later  Mr.  Skinner  entered.  "Skinner,"  said 
Cappy,  "draw  a  check  for  twenty  thousand  in  favor  of 
Matt  Peasley,  and  charge  it  to  his  account." 

"And  then  send  it  over  to  the  bank  and  certify  it," 
Matt  added,  "because  before  I  get  through  with  you,  Mr. 
Ricks,  you'll  be  tempted  to  stop  payment  on  it,  if  I  know 
you — and  I  think  I  do." 

Half   an  hour  later   Cappy   handed   Matt   Peasley  a 


A  DIRTY  YANKEE  TRICK  239 

certified  check  for  twenty  thousand  dollars,  and  in  ex 
change  the  latter  handed  Cappy  the  only  proof  the  Red 
Stack  people  would  have  had,  over  and  above  the  con 
tradictory  testimony  of  the  crews  of  the  respective 
vessels,  that  the  services  of  their  tug  constituted  salvage 
and  not  towage.  Cappy  read  it,  tore  it  into  shreds  and 
glared  at  Matt  Peasley. 

"Matt,"  he  said  very  solemnly,  "I'm  glad  this  thing 
happened.  I've  always  had  a  good  opinion  of  you,  but 
now  I  know  that  though  you  have  many  excellent  quali 
ties  you  do  not  possess  that  quality  which  above  all  others 
I  require  in  an  employee  or  a  son-in-law. 

"You  aren't  loyal.  You  had  the  sweetest  case  of  salvage 
against  our  vessel  that  any  man  could  go  into  court  with, 
and  you  kicked  it  away  like  that,  just  for  your  own 
selfish  ends.  You  sacrificed  your  shipmates,  who  would 
have  been  awarded  a  pro  rata  of  the  salvage,  and  you 
were  false  to  the  trust  your  owners  reposed  in  you." 

Cappy  stood  up,  his  face  pale  with  fury,  and  shook  an 
admonitory  finger  under  Matt  Peasley's  nose. 

"That  act,  sir,  is  an  index  of  your  true  character,"  he 
thundered.  "A  master  who  will  deceive  his  owners,  who 
will  be  false  to  their  interests,  is  a  scoundrel,  sir ;  do  you 
hear  me? — a  scoundrel.  You  will  oblige  me,  sir,  by 
refraining  from  any  attentions  to  my  daughter  in  the 
future.  To  think  that  you  have  descended  to  such  a 
petty,  miserable  subterfuge  to  trick  me  and  rob  your 
owners !  Thank  God,  I  have  found  you  out  in  time !" 

"Yes,  isn't  it  fortunate?"  Matt  answered  humorously. 
"And  if  you  get  any  angrier  you'll  bust  an  artery  and 
die." 

"Out  of  my  office !"  Cappy  raved ;  for  though  he  was  a 
business  man,  and  never  hesitated  to  do  business  in  a 


240  CAPPY    RICKS 

businesslike  way,  he  was  the  soul  of  business  honor,  and 
in  all  his  life  he  had  never  taken  a  mean  or  unfair  advan- 
take  of  those  who  trusted  him.  The  knowledge  that  Matt 
Peasley  had  done  such  a  thing  filled  him  with  rage  not 
unmixed  with  sorrow. 

"I'll  be  gone  in  a  minute,"  Matt  replied  gently;  "only 
before  I  go  permit  me  to  tell  you  something,  and  on  my 
honor  as  a  man  and  a  sailor  I  assure  you  I  speak  the 
truth.  That  wasn't  a  salvage  job  at  all." 

"What?" 

Matt  repeated  the  statement.  Cappy  blinked  and 
clawed  at  his  whiskers. 

"Oh,"  he  said  presently,  "I  had  forgotten  that  you 
and  Captain  Murphy  were  once  shipmates.  And  so  that 
fellow  Murphy  stood  in  with  you  to  work  a  hocuspocus 
game  on  me,  eh?"  he  thundered.  "By  Godfrey,  I'll  fire 
him  for  it!"  and  he  rushed  to  the  office  door,  opened  it 
and  called  to  Skinner:  "Skinner,  Murphy  is  to  be  fired. 
Attend  to  it."  Then  he  closed  the  door  again  and  faced 
Matt  Peasley. 

"Murphy  is  to  be  reinstated,"  Matt  assured  Cappy,  "for 
the  reason  that  Murphy  was  in  deadly  earnest  when  he 
signed  that  paper.  In  five  minutes  he  would  have  been  a 
skipper  without  a  ship,  and  he  knew  it.  If  you  fire 
Murphy  you  do  a  fine  man  a  terrible  injustice." 

"Well,  how  in  blue  blazes  did  he  get  so  close  to  the 
beach  and  let  himself  into  your  clutches?"  Cappy  raved. 

"He  couldn't  answer  that  question,  sir.  He  doesn't 
know.  He  thinks  the  current  set  him  in  there.  It  didn't. 
I  set  him  in  there." 

"You  set  him  in?"  Cappy  queried  incredulously. 

"I  set  him  in.  I  kept  backing  up  on  his  starboard 
counter,  ostensibly  to  dicker  with  him,  and  as  soon  as 


A  DIRTY  YANKEE  TRICK  241 

I  had  the  stern  of  ray  tug  within  a  few  feet  of  the  Retriever 
I'd  signal  my  mate  at  the  wheel,  he'd  give  the  engineer 
full  speed  ahead — why  you  have  no  idea  of  the  force  of 
the  quick  water  thrown  back  from  that  big  towing  pro 
peller  of  the  Sea  Fox.  The  rush  of  it  just  swung  the 
Retriever's  nose  slowly  toward  the  beach  and  kicked  her 
ahead  fifteen  or  twenty  feet,  and  then  her  sheer  momentum 
carried  her  thirty  yards  farther.  By  that  time  I  was 
backed  up  to  her  again,  bargaining  with  Murphy,  and 
ready  for  another  kick.  It  was  easier  after  the  flood  tide 
set  in,  and  I  kept  at  her  all  night  long,  and  gradually 
kicked  her  into  the  breakers,  where  I  wanted  her.  I  knew 
Murphy  would  listen  to  reason  then.  So  you  see,  Mr. 
Ricks,  it  wasn't  a  salvage  job,  and  I  didn't  betray  my 
owners  at  all " 

"You  Yankee  thief !"  Gappy  yelled,  and  dashed  at  Matt, 
to  enfold  the  son-in-law-to-be  in  a  paternal  embrace.  "Oh, 
Matt,  my  boy,  why  do  you  want  to  be  a  tugboat  man  when 
I  need  a  man  with  your  brains  ?  Why  don't  you  be  sensible 
and  listen  to  reason?" 

Matt  held  the  old  man  off  at  arm's  length  and  grinned 
at  him  affectionately. 

"It's  worth  twenty  thousand  dollars  to  get  the  better 
of  you,  sir,"  he  said. 

Gappy  sat  down  very  suddenly. 

"Ah,  yes,"  he  said.  "Speaking  of  money  reminds  me: 
What  do  you  intend  doing  with  that  twenty  thousand 
dollars?" 

"Well,  I  thought  at  first  I'd  go  into  the  shipping 
business  for  myself " 

"Skiffs  or  gasoline  launches — which?"  Gappy  twitted 
him. 

"But  you  seem  bent  on  having  your  way,  and  Florry  is 


242  CAPPY    RICKS 

making  such  a  fuss,  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  give  in  to  you 
after  all." 

Matt  stepped  to  the  door,  opened  it  and  called:  "Mr. 
Skinner!" 

Mr.  Skinner  looked  up  from  his  desk  by  the  window. 
"Well,  sir !"  he  demanded  haughtily. 

"Murphy  is  not  to  be  fired,"  Matt  answered, 

"Indeed!     And  by  whose  orders?" 

"Mine!  I'm  the  port  captain  of  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company,  and,  beginning  now,  I'm  going  to 
do  all  the  hiring  and  firing  of  captains." 

Mr.  Skinner  turned  pale.  He  started  from  his  chair 
and  made  two  steps  toward  Cappy  Ricks'  office,  firmly 
resolved  to  present  his  resignation  then  and  there.  At 
the  door,  however,  he  thought  better  of  it,  hesitated, 
returned  to  his  desk  and  sat  down  again,  for  he  had 
suddenly  remembered,  and,  remembering,  discovered  that 
Cappy  Ricks  had  laid  upon  him  a  burden  that  must  be 
reckoned  with — the  burden  of  his  own  future.  He  flushed 
and  bit  his  lips ;  then,  feeling  Matt  Peasley's  eyes  boring 
into  the  small  of  his  back,  he  turned  and  said: 

"I  have  every  reason  to  believe,  Captain  Peasley,  that 
you  are  the  right  man  in  the  right  place." 

Matt  advanced  upon  him  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"Mr.  Ricks  has  always  bragged  that  you  could  think 
quicker  and  act  quicker  in  an  emergency  than  any  man  he 
ever  knew.  He's  right,  you  can.  Suppose  we  bury  that 
pick-handle,  Mr.  Skinner?" 

Mr.  Skinner's  lips  twitched  in  a  wry  smile,  but  he  took 
Matt  Peasley's  hand  and  wrung  it  heartily,  not  because 
he  loved  Matt  Peasley  or  ever  would,  but  because  he  had 
a  true  appreciation  of  Abraham  Lincoln's  philosophy  to 
the  effect  that  a  house  divided  against  itself  must  surely 


A  DIRTY  YANKEE  TRICK  243 

fall.  "I'm  sure  we'll  get  along  famously  together,"  he 
said. 

"You  know  it,"  Matt  answered  heartily,  and  stepped 
back  into  Cappy's  office. 

"Well,"  said  Cappy,  "that  was  mighty  well  done,  Matt. 
Thank  you.  So  you  think  you'll  quit  the  Sea  Fox  and  be 
my  port  captain,  eh?" 

"I  think  so,  sir." 

"Well,  I  do  not,  Matt.  The  fact  of  the  matter  is,  your 
business  education  is  now  about  to  commence,  and  about 
two  minutes  ago  I  suddenly  decided  tha.t  you  might  as 
well  pay  for  it  with  your  own  money.  I  have  no  doubt 
such  a  course  will  meet  with  the  approval  of  your 
independent  spirit  anyhow.  You're  a  little  too  uppish 
yet,  Matt.  You  must  be  chastened,  and  the  only  way  to 
chasten  a  man  and  make  him  humble  is  to  turn  him  loose 
to  fight  with  the  pack  for  a  while.  Consequently  I'm  going 
to  turn  you  loose,  Matt;  there  are  some  wolves  along 
California  Street  that  will  take  your  twenty  thousand 
away  from  you  so  fast  that  you  won't  know  it's  going  till 
it's  gone.  But  the  loss  will  do  you  a  heap  of  good — and  I 
guess  Florry  can  wait  a  while." 

He  paused  and  eyed  Matt  meditatively  for  fully  a 
minute. 

"And  you  kicked  my  barkentine  ashore  with  the  quick 
water  from  your  tug's  propeller,"  he  mused  aloud.  "Got 
her  where  you  wanted  her — and  Murphy  didn't  suspect! 
He  laid  it  to  the  current!"  Cappy  shook  his  head.  "A 
dirty  Yankee  trick,"  he  continued,  "and  I  love  you  for  it — 
in  fact,  it  breaks  my  heart  not  to  make  good  that 
grandstand  play  you  just  pulled  on  Skinner,  but  I've 
changed  my  mind  about  hiring  you  yet.  I'm  just  going 
to  sit  back  and  have  some  fun  watching  you  defend  that 


244  CAPPY    RICKS 

little  old  twenty- thousand  dollars  I  just  gave  you.  Do 
you  know,  Matt,  that  I  never  knew  a  man  to  save  up  a 
thousand  dollars,  by  denying  himself  many  tilings,  that  he 
didn't  invest  the  thousand  in  a  wild-cat  mine  or  a  dry 
oil  well?  Ah,  Matt,  it's  those  first  few  dollars  that  come 
so  hard  and  go  so  easy  that  break  most  men's  hearts ;  but 
here  you  are  with  twenty  thousand  that  came  so  easy  I've 
just  naturally  got  to  see  how  hard  they  go!  You'll  be 
worth  more  money  to  me,  Matt,  and  you'll  be  a  safer  man 
to  handle  this  business  when  I'm  gone,  if  you  go  out  and 
play  the  game  for  a  while  by  yourself.  You  have  a  secret 
itching  to  do  it  anyhow,  Matt,  and  in  surrendering  to 
me  just  now  you  went  down  with  your  colors  flying.  You 
just  wanted  to  be  kind  to  the  old  man,  didn't  you?  Well, 
I  appreciate  it,  Matt,  because  I'm  an  old  man,  and  I  know 
how  hard  it  is  for  a  boy  to  yield  to  an  old  man's  wishes ; 
but  youth  must  be  served,  and  God  forbid  that  I  should 
rob  you  of  the  joy  of  the  conflict,  my  boy.  When  you're 
busted  flat  and  need  some  more  money,  you  may  have  it 
up  to  the  amount  to  your  credit  on  our  books.  And  when 
that's  gone  I  guess  you'll  make  a  better  port  captain  than 
you  will  this  morning.  Does  that  program  suit  you  better 
than  the  one  I  originally  outlined?" 

Matt  flushed  and  hung  his  head  in  embarrassment,  but 
answered  truthfully :  "Yes,  sir." 

"Very  well,"  said  Cappy,  relapsing  into  one  of  hie 
frequent  colloquialisms,  "go  to  it,  boy.  Eat  it  up." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

CAPPY  FORBIDS  THE  BANS YET 

CAPPY  RICKS  sat  at  breakfast,  tapping  meditatively  en 
the  apex  of  a  boiled  egg,  when  his  daughter  swished  into 
the  room,  saluted  her  interesting  parent  by  depositing  a 
light  kiss  on  his  bald  and  ingenuous  head,  and  took  her 
place  at  the  table. 

Florence  Ricks  was  a  radiant  vision  in  a  film}"  pink 
breakfast  gown  and  cap,  and  as  she  smiled  perkily  at 
Cappy  he  returned  her  bright  look  with  one  a  trifle  sad 
and  yearning. 

"Florence,  my  love,"  said  Cappy  gently,  "have  you,  by 
any  chance,  talked  with  that  big,  two-fisted  sailor  of  yours 
within  the  past  twelve  hours?" 

She  shook  her  head  negatively,  tilting  her  nose  and 
pursing  her  lips  in  an  adorable  grimace  of  disapproval. 

"Since  Matt  Peasley  has  been  master  of  that  tug  I  see 
him  only  when  his  owners  cannot  find  something  mere 
important  for  him  to  do.  Why  do  you  pop  that  question 
at  me  so  suddenly?  Did  you  want  to  see  him  about 
something?" 

"No.  I  saw  him  yesterday  forenoon,  and  we  went  into 
a  clinch  and  fought  each  other  all  over  my  private  office. 
Matt  got  the  decision.  I  thought  he  might  have  called 
you  up  to  discuss  with  you  his  plans  for  the  future.  When 
he  left  me  yesterday  he  was  on  his  way  back  to  the  office 
of  the  Red  Stack  Tugboat  Company  to  tell  the  port 

245 


246  CAPPY    RICKS 

captain  he  could  stick  some  other  skipper  on  the  tug  Sea 
Fox." 

Florence  clapped  her  hands  ecstatically.  "Oh,  goody, 
goody!"  she  cried. 

"Well,  it  might  be  worse." 

"Why  is  he  resigning?  To  go  to  work  for  you,  as  I 
wanted  him  to  do  six  months  ago?" 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you,  Florry,"  Cappy  began.  "I  know 
you're  going  to  be  disappointed,  but  the  fact  of  the  matter 
is  we've  just  got  to  let  that  boy  paddle  his  own  canoe — 
though,  to  hear  him  talk,  he's  going  to  operate  his  own 
line  of  steamers !  Matt  doesn't  think  in  canoes  when  the 
subject  of  the  merchant  marine  is  up  for  discussion  any 
more  than  I  think  in  cent  pieces  when  I'm  wrestling  with 
a  banker  for  a  loan.  He  has  resigned  from  the  tug  Sea 
Fox  to  go  into  business  for  himself!" 

"But  how  can  he?  He  hasn't  any  money,  you  sillj 
man!" 

"Oh,  yes,  he  has.  I  gave  him  twenty  thousand  dollars 
yesterday.  He  had  that  much  credit  on  the  Blue  Star 
books  from  his  share  of  the  recharter  of  the  steamer 
Unicorn  nearly  two  years  ago." 

"But  I  thought  you  weren't  going  to  give  him  any  of 
that  money,"  Florence  protested. 

**I  thought  so,  too,"  Cappy  answered  dryly;  "but  the 
scoundrel  put  up  a  low-down  job  on  me  and  pried  the 
twenty  thousand  loose,"  and  Cappy  proceeded  to  relate 
to  Florry  the  sad  tale  of  the  salvage  of  the  Retriever. 

Florence  was  gifted  with  the  same  lovable  sense  of 
humor  that  distinguished  her  father;  and,  somewhat  to 
his  annoyance,  she  laughed  long  and  heartily  at  this  tale 
of  how  her  fiance  had  vanquished  him. 

"And  then  what?"  she  queried  with  childish  insouciance. 


GAPPY  FORBIDS  THE  BANS  247 

i 

"Whj7,  then  he  made  friends  with  Skinner  and,  to  my 
complete  amazement,  surrendered  without  firing  a  shot. 
He  said  he'd  be  my  port  captain  now ;  whereas  six  months 
ago  he  said  it  was  against  his  religion  to  work  for  a 
relative,  and  that  he  wanted  to  go  into  business  for  himself. 
And  only  the  day  before  he'd  reiterated  those  sentiments." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad!"  said  Florry,  much  relieved. 

"Wait!"  said  Cappy  dramatically.  "Don't  cheer  yet. 
I've  upset  your  apple  cart,  my  dear.  I  rejected  the 
young  man's  proposition  and  condemned  him  to  a  business 
of  his  own." 

"But  you  wanted  him  for  your  port  captain,  Daddy 
dear.  You  wanted  him  the  very  worst  way." 

"And  that's  just  how  I  got  him,  Florry.  I  don't  want 
any  man  whose  heart  is  not  in  his  job,  and  a  business  man 
should  never  surrender  for  sentimental  reasons.  You 
cannot  mix  sentiment  and  business,  daughter;  if  you  do 
you'll  get  chaos.  Matt  Peasley  surrendered  to  me — not 
because  he  wanted  to,  but  to  please  you.  You've  been 
picking  on  him  rather  hard  lately,  haven't  you?" 

Florry  admitted  it. 

"I  knew  it,"  Cappy  declared.  "I  knew  it — and  that's 
why  I  exercised  the  veto  on  you,  Florry." 

Florry's  eyes  dropped,  and  in  the  corners  of  them  her 
father  thought  he  detected  a  glint  of  tears ;  whereupon 
he  attacked  his  egg  vigorously.  After  a  brief  silence  he 
said : 

"Of  course  that  means  a  slight  delay  in  your  plans  for 
a  June  wedding " 

A  tear  crept  through  Florry's  long  lashes  and  dropped 
anheeded  into  her  grapefruit.  Cappy  saw  it  drop,  but 
resolved  to  be  cruel  and  ignore  it. 

"The  infernal  schemer  couldn't  resist  the  temptation 


248  CAPPY    RICKS 

to  take  a  fall  out  of  your  old  man,  Florry ;  so  naturally 
I  had  to  take  a  fall  out  of  him ;  though,  at  that,  I  have 
doubts  whether  I  succeeded.  I  think  I  played  into  his 
hand ;  and  now  I'm  telling  you  about  it  to  save  him  the 
trouble  and  grief  of  an  explanation  he  couldn't  make  and 
which  you  wouldn't  understand — from  him.  Some  day  my 
affairs  will  all  be  yours,  Florry — yours  and  Matt's ;  and 
he'll  have  to  manage  them  for  you.  To  manage  them  well, 
he  must  have  experience ;  hence,  I  decided,  in  about  two 
flips  of  a  humming-bird's  tail,  that  it  would  be  a  mighty 
good  thing  for  you  and  Matt  if  I  forced  him  into  business 
for  himself  and,  as  I  informed  him,  let  him  pay  for  that 
experience  with  his  own  money;  for  that  is  the  only  kind 
of  money  that  will  buy  him  any  experience  worth  while. 
No  young  man  ever  learned  a  great  deal  when  some 
sentimental  old  fool  footed  the  bill  for  his  tuition  fees  in 
the  college  of  hard  knocks." 

"Poor  Matt!"  Florry  sobbed.  "He  hasn't— had  any 
thing — except  hard  knocks  sinre  he  was — fourteen  years 
—old." 

"Yes,"  shrilled  Cappy ;  "and  just  look  at  the  difference 
between  him  and  these  la-di-da  boys  that  never  had  any 
hard  knocks !  Hard  knocks !  Why,  hard  knocks  keep 
that  devilish  fellow  in  condition!" 

"But  I'd  planned — we  didn't  want  to  have  too  long  an — 
engagement " 

"I'll  guarantee  you,  little  daughter,  you  will  not  have 
to  wait  longer  than  six  months.  Please  wait — for  my 
sake."  And  Cappy  rose,  made  his  way  round  the 
breakfast  table  and  placed  his  old  arms  about  the  light 
and  joy  of  his  existence.  "So,  so,  now!"  he  soothed. 
"Don't  you  cry,  honey,  until  you  hear  what  the  old  man 
has  to  say.  Why,  haven't  I  always  given  my  little 


CAPPY  FORBIDS  THE  BANS  249 

daughter  everything  she  wanted?  You  wanted  that  big 
sailor,  Florry ;  I  saw  he  wanted  you ;  and  he  looked  awful 
good  to  me.  I  knew  he  was  man,  every  inch  of  him ;  he 
was  our  kind  of  people  and  he  knew  ships  and  loved  them. 
and  so  I  wanted  him  for  you.  What  if  he  was  a  big 
hunk  of  a  sailor  with  hardly  enough  money  saved  up 
to  buy  you  half  a  dozen  party  dresses?  None  of  the 
Ricks  tribe  was  ever  born  or  bred  in  the  purple — and  I 
have  money  enough  for  all  practical  purposes.  So  I 
went  after  him  for  you,  Florry,  and  you're  going  to  get 
him ;  so  don't  cry  about  it." 

"Life  is  so  filled  with  disappointments,"  Florry  sobbed, 
notwithstanding  this  was  the  first  she  had  ever  known. 

Cappy  smiled  a  still  small  smile  as  he  bent  over  her. 

"Fiddlesticks !"  he  replied.  "Only  the  day  before 
yesterday  Matt  told  me  he  didn't  want  to  work  for  me; 
that  he  didn't  want  a  relative  handing  him  any  favors ; 
and  that  he  wasn't  marrying  you  to  ease  himself  into  a 
soft  job  for  life.  He  said  he  wanted  to  make  the  fight 
himself.  And  do  you  know,  Florry,  if  he  had  been  my 
own  boy  I  couldn't  have  been  prouder  of  him  than  when 
he  told  me  that !  When  old  What-you-may-call-him  in 
Shakespeare's  play  said :  'Let  me  have  men  about  me  that 
are  fat,'  it  showed  how  blamed  little  Shakespeare  knew 
about  men.  He  should  have  said:  'Let  me  have  men 
about  me  who  are  long  and  tough,  and  fairly  thick  in  the 
middle ;  let  me  have  scrappy  boys  about  me  with 
backbone !' 

"Well,  in  a  way,  Florry,  I  was  disappointed,  and 
perhaps,  in  the  heat  of  the  moment,  I  showed  it,  as  I 
have  a  habit  of  doing;  but  after  Matt  had  left  the  office, 
and  I  got  to  thinking  it  over,  away  down  low  I  was  proud 
of  him.  Consequently  when  he  reversed  his  decision 


250  CAPPY    RICKS 

yesterday  I  knew  why,  for  I  lived  twenty-five  years  with 
your  mother.  But  a  woman's  love  is  selfish  sometimes, 
and  I  knew  that  Matt  had  surrendered,  not  to  jne,  but  to 
you;  though  he  came  across  like  a  sport,  he  didn't  want 
to,  for  3rou'd  roweled  him  and  roped  him  with  your  love, 
my  dear — and,  though  you  do  not  know  it,  that's  a  terrible 
thing  to  do  to  a  free-running  colt  like  Matt  Peasley.  He 
has  his  code,  and  it's  a  bully  code ;  and  I  don't  want  you 
to  tie  knots  in  it,  Florrv.  Won't  you  be  as  spunky  and 
independent  as  he  is,  and  give  him  his  head  for  six  mont.hs 
more?  He'll  probably  call  sometime  to-day,  or  ring  up, 
to  tell  you  how  I  picked  holes  in  the  program ;  and  when 
he  does  I  want  you  to  smile  and  tell  him  you're  glad  of 
it,  and  suggest  a  postponement  of  the  wedding  until  he 
has  demonstrated  to  me  that  he  is  a  business  man." 

Florence  looked  up  and  bravely  smiled  a  forgiving 
smile  through  her  tears. 

"You're  a  dreadful  Buttinsky,  Daddy  Ricks!"  she 
protested. 

He  kissed  her  hungrily. 

"Oh,  I'm  a  devil  in  my  own  home  town !"  he  replied,  and 
trotted  back  to  his  neglected  breakfast.  "If  Matt  hasn't 
made  good  as  a  business  man  within  six  months,  or  has 
lost  his  bank  roll — and  I  intend  to  see  to  it  that  he  does 
lose  it,  if  I  ever  get  a  hack  at  him — we'll  pull  off  this 
wedding  anyhow.  I  guess  there's  room  enough  in  this 
house  for  three." 

At  nine  o'clock  Cappy  Ricks,  with  a  lilt  in  his  heart, 
idrove  down  to  his  office  behind  his  team  of  high-stepping 
bays.  At  the  corner  of  California  and  Drumm  Streets 
he  saw  Matt  Peasley  and  hailed  him.  The  latter  came 
|to  the  carriage  door  and  looked  in. 

"It's  all  right,  Matt,"  Cappy  said  with  a  cunning  wink. 


CAPPY  FORBIDS  THE  BANS          251 

"I've  fixed  Florry's  clock  for  her.  There  won't  be  the 
slightest  trouble." 

Matt  Peasley  wrung  his  hand  gratefully. 

"I  quit  the  Sea  Fox  last  night,"  he  announced  gladly. 

"Going  into  business  this  morning,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  line?" 

"Ship,  freight  and  marine  insurance  broker." 

"Well,  that's  a  line  that  will  keep  you  hustling  for  your 
wheatcakes  until  you  get  well  acquainted.  However,  just 
to  give  you  a  shove  in  the  right  direction,  you  might  scout 
round  the  market  and  see  whether  you  can  dig  up  a  cargo 
for  our  steamer  Tillicum.  Usual  commission  of  two  and 
a  half  per  cent." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Ricks.  I  ought  to  be  able  to  scare 
up  something  in  the  way  of  a  foreign  lumber  cargo  for 
her." 

"We've  tried  and  failed.  Moreover,  her  fuel-oil  tankage 
isn't  sufficient  to  take  her  too  far  foreign  and  back; 
added  to  which  she  is  under  American  registry,  employing 
American  seament  and  I'd  rather  lay  her  up  than  put  a 
coolie  crew  aboard  and  compete  with  the  British  tramps, 
with  their  Lascar  and  Chinamen,  at  six  and  seven  dollars 
a  month.  We've  been  running  her  in  our  own  trade ;  but 
the  lumber  market  is  very  dull  and  she  has  but  one  more 
cargo  in  sight ;  after  that  is  freighted,  unless  we  can  find 
outside  business  for  her,  she'll  have  to  lay  up  in  Oakland 
Inner  Harbor  until  the  Panama  Canal  opens — when,  of 
course,  we  can  load  her  for  the  Atlantic  seaboard.  She 
carries  nearly  two  million  feet,  and  that's  whac  makes  it 
so  hard  for  us  to  keep  her  busy  coastwise." 

"How  about  some  Mexican  or  Central  American 
business — general  cargo  ?"  Matt  suggested. 


252  CAPPY    RICKS 

"Pretty  hard  stuff  to  get.  The  Pacific  Mail  has  most 
•f  the  Central  American  business ;  and,  owing  to  the 
political  situation  in  Mexico,  that  trade  is  practically 
killed.  Every  vessel  that  gets  in  there  has  trouble  with 
one  faction  or  the  other;  they're  liable  to  confiscate,  and 
then  we'd  have  to  call  on  the  navy  to  get  our  ship  back 
for  us." 

"I'll  look  round  for  a  grain  charter  to  Honolulu  and 
return  with  sugar  or  general  cargo." 

"We  might  do  that,"  Cappy  suggested,  brightening. 
"Good  luck  to  you,  Matt — and  don't  be  a  stranger." 


CHAPTER    XXXVII 

MATT    PEASL.EY    BECOMES    A    SHIPOWNER 

A  YOUTH  thrust  a  wary  nose  into  Cappy  Ricks'  private 
office  and  announced  Captain  Matt  Peasley  was  desirous 
of  admittance. 

"Show  him  in,"  Cappy  ordered,  and  Matt  entered. 

"Well,  young  man,"  said  Cappy  briskly,  "sit  down  and 
tell  me  of  your  adventures  during  your  first  week  as  a 
business  man.  Of  course,  I  hear  from  Florry  that  you 
have  opened  a  dink  of  an  office  somewhere — got  desk 
space  with  the  Alaskan  Codfish  Corporation,  haven't  you, 
with  the  use  of  their  telephone,  stenographer  and  general 
office  boy?" 

"Yes,  sir*  The  manager,  Slade,  is  a  native  of 
Thomaston — never  knew  anything  but  fish  all  his  life ;  and, 
inasmuch  as  I  was  raised  on  the  Grand  Banks,  I  got  ia 
the  habit  of  drifting  round  there  occasionally,  and  Slade 
offered  me  the  privilege  of  making  it  my  headquarters. 
Ten  dollars  a  month — cheap  enough." 

"Yes,  considering  the  aroma  of  codfish  that  goes  with 
it,  free-gratis,"  Cappy  admitted  dryly;  "but  then  I  sup 
pose  that's  what  attracted  you  in  the  first  place.  But 
have  you  done  any  real  business,  Matt?" 

"Well,  I've  arranged  with  several  good  old-line 
insurance  companies  to  accept  any  marine-insurance 
business  I  may  bring  in,  though  I  haven't  sold  any  yet; 
neither  have  I  been  able  to  find  a  load  for  your  Tillicum. 

253 


S54  CAPPY    RICKS 

By  the  way,  you  have  a  little  old  three-legged  schooner 
laid  up  in  Oakland  Inner  Harbor." 

"I  have  three  of  them — more's  the  pity !"  Cappy 
replied — "the  Ethel  Ricks,  the  Nukahiva  and  the  Harpoon. 
.Which  one  do  you  mean?" 

"The  Ethel  Ricks.  She's  the  only  one  I  examined 
closely.  Would  you  consider  selling  her?" 

"Ah,"  said  Cappy,  "I  perceive.  Your  friend  Slade 
wants  her  for  a  codfisher,  eh?" 

"That's  all  she's  good  for  now,  Mr.  Ricks.  She  has 
had  her  day  in  the  lumber  trade ;  the  steam  schooners  have 
relegated  her  to  a  final  resting  place  in  the  ooze  of  Oakland 
Inner  Harbor;  her  class  of  windjammers  is  a  thing  of  the 
past  for  general  cargo.  She's  been  laid  up  now  for  three 
years.  True,  her  bottom  is  coppered  and  you  dry-dock 
her  every  year;  but  that's  an  expense.  And  then  you 
must  consider  taxes  and  depreciation,  and  sooner  or  later, 
if  she  lies  in  the  mud  long  enough,  the  Teredo  will  eat  her 
up;  so  it  occurred  to  me  that  you  might  be  glad  to  sell. 
She  was  built  in  1883,  but  she  was  built  to  last 

"Never  built  a  cheap  ship  in  my  life  and  never  ran 
'em  cheap,"  Cappy  challenged  proudly.  "The  Ethel 
Ricks  is  in  the  discard,  but  she's  as  sound  a  little  packet 
as  you'll  find  anywhere.  She's  had  the  best  of  care.  The 
same  is  true  of  the  Harpoon  and  the  Nukahiva." 

"What  do  you  want  for  her  ?" 

"Four  thousand  dollars,"  Cappy  answered  promptly. 

"I  was  offered  the  Dandelion  for  three  thousand ;  she's 
ten  years  younger  than  the  Ethel  Ricks  and  in  very  good 
condition.  Sorry,  but  I  guess  you'll  have  to  keep  the 
Ethel — and  let  me  tell  you,  the  longer  you  keep  her  the 
less  she's  worth.  However,  I  guess  she  doesn't  owe  you 
anything." 


MATT  BECOMES  A  SHIPOWNER      255 

"No ;  she  paid  for  herself  more'n  twice,"  Gappy  replied. 

"Then  if  you  get  three  thousand  for  her  it's  like  finding 
the  money  and  losing  a  worry." 

"Sold!"  said  Cappy. 

"I  didn't  say  I'd  buy,"  Matt  warned  him.  "What  do 
you  want  for  the  Harpoon  and  the  Nukahiva?" 

"They're  all  sister  ships.     Three  thousand  each." 

"I  am  empowered  to  make  you  an  offer  of  twenty-seven 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  each  for  the  three!"  Matt  shot 
at  him. 

"Net?  The  three  of  them?"  Cappy  was  all  attention 
now;  for  selling  schooners  in  lots  of  three  was  decidedly 
new  and  interesting. 

"Hardly !  Five  per  cent  to  me.  Remember  I'm  a  ship, 
freight  and  marine  insurance  broker,  and  I'm  not  working 
for  my  health.  Why,  I  haven't  even  suggested  any  other 
vessels  to  my  clients — and,  by  the  way,  they  are  not  codfish 
people  either.  I  knew  you'd  want  to  get  rid  of  these  little 
hookers,  so  I'm  giving  you  first  crack  at  the  bargain." 

"Who  wants  them?"  Cappy  demanded  craftily. 

"If  I  told  you  that  you'd  do  me  the  way  you  did  that 
Seattle  broker  who  tried  to  put  through  the  charter  of 
the  Lion  and  the  Unicorn.  When  you  knew  who  his  clients 
were  you  were  in  position  to  defy  him — and  you  did !" 

"No  offense,"  Cappy  retorted  innocently.  "Don't  be 
so  touchy!  Is  this  a  cash  proposition,  Matt?" 

"In  the  hand." 

"I  accept." 

"Then  give  me  a  written  option,"  Matt  warned  him. 
'No  more  word-of-mouth  business  for  me  with  you." 

Cappy  laughed;  and,  calling  in  a  stenographer,  he 
dictated  the  option. 

"Now,  then,  Matt,"  he  said  as  he  signed  the  option 


256  CAPPY    RICKS 

five  minntes  later  and  handed  it  to  Matt,  "who  shall  we 
make  out  the  bills  of  sale  to?" 

"To  the  Pacific  Shipping  Company.  When  you're 
read}'  telephone  me  and  I'll  bring  the  check  round." 

"Go  get  your  check  now,"  Cappy  ordered.  "Skinner 
will  have  the  bills  of  sale  ready  by  the  time  you  return. 
And  I  do  wish  to  heaven,"  he  added,  "that  you  had  called 
round  with  this  proposition  four  days  ago.  I've  just  had 
those  three  schooners  dry-docked,  cleaned  and  painted." 

"Which  is  the  very  reason  why  I  didn't  call  round  until 
to-day,  Mr.  Ricks.  You  can  afford  that  dry-dock  bill 
so  much  better  than — er — the  Pacific  Shipping  Company." 

He  left,  laughing,  and  proceeded  to  the  office  of  the 
Pacific  Shipping  Company,  where  he  procured  a  check  for 
eighty-two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  and  returned  to  the 
Blue  Star  Navigation  Company's  office.  Mr.  Skinner 
had  in  the  meantime  prepared  proper  bills  of  sale:  a 
notary,  with  offices  in  the  building,  had  been  called  in  to 
attest  the  signatures  of  Cappy  Ricks  and  Mr.  Hankins, 
president  and  secretary  respectively  of  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company ;  and  when  Cappy  Ricks  handed  over 
the  bills  of  sale  to  Matt  Peasley,  together  with  the  Blue 
Star  check  for  four  hundred  and  twelve  dollars  and  fifty 
cents — Matt's  commission — the  latter  handed  him  the 
certified  check  of  the  Pacific  Shipping  Company. 

"Who  is  the  Pacific  Shipping  Company,  Matt?"  Cappy 
queried.  "I  never  heard  of  them  before." 

"It's  a  new  company,  sir,"  Matt  replied ;  and,  gathering 
up  his  bills  of  sale  and  the  check  for  his  commission,  he 
fled  precipitately,  leaving  Cappy  Ricks  to  adjust  his 
spectacles  and  examine  the  check.  It  was  signed:  "Pacific 
Shipping  Company,  by  Matthew  Peasley,  President." 

For  a  long  time  Cappy  Ricks  sat  staring  at  that  check. 


257 

Finally  he  looked  up  and  saw  Mr.  Skinner  gazing  at  him. 
He  held  out  the  check  and  tapped  Matt  Peasley's 
signature. 

"Get  on  to  that,  Skinner,  my  boy,"  he  said ;  "get  on  to 
that!     Matt's  gone  into  the  shipping  business,  and  he's 
making  an  humble  start  with  three  little  old  antiquated 
schooners,   for  which  he  has  paid  me  more   than  eight » 
thousand  dollars.     Now  he  will  go  broke !" 

"I  do  not  agree  with  you,  Mr.  Ricks,"  Mr.  Skinner 
replied  dryly,  "for  I  notice  he  didn't  forget  to  stick  us 
four  hundred  and  twelve  dollars  and  fifty  cents  for  the 
privilege  of  selling  him  those  three  schooners  !  This  is  the 
first  time  I  ever  heard  of  anybody's  paying  the  purchaser 
a  commission!" 

"The  infernal  scoundrel !"  Cappy  shrilled  angrily,  for 
Mr.  Skinner's  assertion  carried  the  hint  that  Cappy  had 
been  outgeneraled.  "The  Yankee  thief ! — acting  as  broker 
for  a  company  in  which  he  owns  all  the  capital  stock !  In 
business  a  week  and  he's  made  over  four  hundred  dollars 
already,  neat  and  nice,  and  as  clean  as  a  hound's  tooth! 
Can  you  beat  it?" 

"It's  better  than  being  a  port  captain  for  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company  at  three  hundred  a  month,"  Mr. 
Skinner  suggested  wistfully. 

He  had  worked  for  a  salary  all  his  days,  and  after 
passing  the  thirty  mark  he  had  lost  the  courage  to  leap 
into  the  commercial  fray  and  be  his  own  man.  He  wished 
he  might  have  been  endowed  at  birth  with  a  modicum  of 
Matt  Peasley's  courage  and  reckless  disregard  of  con 
sequences. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII 

WORKING    CAPITAL 

IT  was  nearly  ten  weeks  before  Cappy  Ricks  laid  eyes 
on  Matt  Peasley  again.  Inquiry  from  Florry  elicited  the 
information  that  Matt  had  gone  to  Mexico  as  skipper  of 
his  own  schooner,  the  Harpoon,  bound  on  some  mysterious 
business. 

"He's  taken  the  old  Harpoon  down  there  to  stick  a 
Mexican— I'll  bet  a  hat  on  that !"  Cappy  reflected.  "I'll 
bet  he'll  have  a  tale  to  tell  when  he  gets  back." 

There  came  a  day  when  Matt,  looking  healthy  and 
happy,  dropped  in  for  a  social  call. 

"Well,  young  man,"  Cappy  greeted  him,  "give  an 
account  of  yourself.  How  do  you  find  business?" 

"The  finest  game  in  the  world,"  Matt  replied  heartily. 
"I  had  the  Ethel  Ricks  snaked  out  of  the  mud  and  hauled 
out  on  the  marine  railway,  where  I  bossed  a  gang  of 
riggers  and  sailmakers  for  a  week,  getting  her  gear  in 
shape  while  she  was  having  a  gas  engine  and  tanks  for 
the  distillate  installed.  Then  I  gave  her  a  dab  of  paint 
here  and  there,  sweetened  her  up,  and  sold  her  to  Slade, 
of  the  Alaska  Codfishing  Corporation,  at  a  net  profit  of 
fifteen  hundred  dollars  over  her  total  cost  to  me.  Nearly 
two  thousand  for  my  first  month  in  business.  Not  so 
bad,  eh?" 

"You'll  do  better  after  a  while,"  Cappy  remarked  dryly. 
"I  hear  you've  been  to  Mexico.  How  about  it,  boy?" 

258 


WORKING  CAPITAL  259 

"I  took  the  Harpoon  down  myself,  and  hired  a  skipper 
to  take  the  Nukahiva.  Before  doing  so,  however,  I 
overhauled  their  gear  and  installed  gas  engines  in  them 
also — only  I'd  learned  something  by  this  time.  I  bought 
second-hand  engines,  rebuilt,  but  with  a  guaranty,  and 
they  cost  me  a  thousand  dollars  less  than  new  engines. 
In  conversation  with  Captain  Kirk,  of  the  steamer  San 
Bias,  I  had  heard  that  a  company  in  Guaymas  was  think 
ing  of  buying  a  couple  of  little  coasting  schooners,  putting 
gas  engines  in  them,  and  adding  these  crafts  to  their  fleet 
running  out  of  Guaymas  to  Mazatlan,  Topolobampo,  and 
way  ports.  So  I  went  down,  put  my  schooners  under  the 
Mexican  flag,  and  started  opposition.  The  old-established 
company  went  to  the  local  military  commander  and  tried 
to  get  him  to  commandeer  my  vessels  for  the  use  of  the 
government,  which  pays  in  depreciated  shinplasters  that 
may  be  worth  something  some  day  a  hundred  years  from 
now."  j 

"Whew-w-w!"  Gappy  whistled.  "That  was  a  narrow 
squeak,  Matt.  How  did  you  dodge  it  ?" 

"I  had  the  local  military  commander  on  my  payroll, 
with  good  American  gold,  before  I  ever  started  anything. 
I  knew  he'd  come  to  shake  me  down ;  so  I  anticipated  him 
and  made  a  monthly  donation  to  the  cause  of  liberty.  I 
do  not  know  for  certain,  but  I  imagine  he  went  south  with 
it  himself,  though  I  do  not  begrudge  the  amount.  I  only  • 
paid  him  for  one  month  anyhow.  By  that  time  I  had 
an  offer  to  sell  out;  and  I  did,  reluctantly,  but  for  real 
money  and  at  a  much  better  figure  than  if  I  had  not  made 
it  an  object  for  them  to  buy.  I  got  out  with  a  net  profit 
of  seventy-four  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  on  the  two 
schooners.  Not  so  bad,  eh,  Mr.  Ricks?  Over  nine  thou 
sand  dollars  in  less  than  three  months?  Of  course,  I 


26o  CAPPY    RICKS 

realize  I  could  not  have  made  that  much  if  I  hadn't  had  the 
funds  with  which  to  speculate.** 

Cappy  nodded.  Words  were  beyond  him  for  the  time 
being.  Finally  he  said: 

"Matt,  that  was  pure  gambling,  though  you  think  it 
tras  a  speculation.  It  was  mighty  poor  business,  even  if 
you  did  emerge  with  a  fancy  profit.  You  might  have  been 
cleaned  out." 

"Yes ;  and  if  the  hare  hadn't  stopped  to  take  a  nap 
the  tortoise  would  not  have  won  the  race,"  Matt  replied. 
'So  far  as  I  can  see,  all  business  is  a  gamble  and  every 
nvestment  is  a  bet ;  hence,  a  good  business  man  is  a  good 
gambler.** 

Cappy  Ricks  sighed. 

"There  is  a  special  providence,"  he  saul.  "that  look* 
after  fools,  drunkem  men  and  sailors." 


CHAPTER    XXXIX 

EASY    MONET 

CAPTAIN  Matt  Peasley's  first  act  after  consummating 
his  first  successful  deal  was  to  purchase  for  the  Pacific 
Shipping  Company  a  membership  in  the  Merchants' 
Exchange,  on  the  floor  of  which  he  knew  he  would  meet 
daily  all  the  shipping  men  of  San  Francisco,  and  thus 
be  enabled  to  keep  in  touch  with  trade  conditions. 

He  had  been  a  member  less  than  a  week  when  the  wisdom 
of  spending  five  hundred  dollars  for  his  membership  was 
made  delightfully  apparent.  While  he  stood  watching  the 
.secretary  chalk  on  the  blackboard  the  record  of  the  latest 
arrivals  and  departures,  he  heard  a  man  behind  him 
speaking: 

"Heyfuss,  I'm  in  the  market  to  charter  another 
freighter  for  the  Panama  run.  You  might  look  round 
and  see  whether  you  can  line  something  up  for  us.  I'd 
like  about  a  two-thousand-ton  boat ;  and  we  could  charter 
her  for  a  year." 

"There's  only  one  vessel  available,"  the  man  addressed 
as  Heyfuss  answered;  "and  that's  the  Tillicum.  Capp;y 
Ricks  had  her  laid  up  in  Oakland  Creek " 

Matt  moved  away  and  approached  a  clerk  at  the  desk. 

"That  dark-haired  man  with  the  thick  glasses,  talking 
with  Mr.  Heyfuss,"  he  said — "who  is  he  ?" 

"That  is  Mr.  Henry  Kelton,  manager  of  G.  H.  Morrow 
Company,"  the  clerk  answered.  "They  operate  a  line 

261 


262  GAPPY    RICKS 

of  sailing  vessels  foreign  and  half  a  dozen  steamers  to 
South  American  ports." 

Matt  thanked  him,  entered  a  telephone  booth  and  on 
consulting  the  telephone  directory,  discovered  that  J.  O. 
Heyfuss  was  a  broker. 

"I'll  have  to  step  lively  to  beat  Heyfuss  to  it,"  he 
soliloquized,  and  forthwith  hastened  down  to  the  office  of 
the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company. 

"Well,  young  man !"  Cappy  greeted  him  genially  "How 
about  you?" 

"Never  mind  me.     How  about  the  Tillicum?" 

"Laid  up  in  Oakland  Inner  Harbor  waiting  for  better 
times." 

"I  think  I  can  give  her  some  business.  Would  you 
charter  her  to  the  Pacific  Shipping  Company?" 

"Well,"  Cappy  replied,  "I  might  be  induced  to  take  a 
chance  in  these  hard  times.  How  much  money  have  you 
in  bank  to-day?" 

"In  a  pinch  I  could  lay  my  hands  on  thirty  thousand, 
cash." 

"Well,"  said  Cappy  thoughtfully,  "that  little  roll,  plus 
an  established  credit  and  a  reputation  for  business 
experience,  might  carry  you  far  with  some  people — but 
not  with  me.  You're  not  a  safe  bet — yet ;  but  we  can 
make  it  safe." 

"How?" 

"You  can  pay  the  charter  money  in  advance,"  Cappj 
answered  smilingly. 

"I  have  decided  not  to  do  any  more  gambling,  Mr. 
Ricks.  Hereafter,  as  near  as  such  a  thing  may  be  humanly 
possible,  I'm  going  to  play  a  sure  thing.  Therefore,  all 
things  being  equal,  if  I  can  guarantee  you  your  price  for 
the  steamer,  on  a  year's  charter,  you  do  not  care  what  I 


EASY  MONEY  263 

do  with  the  vessel,  provided  that  I  do  not  injure  her?" 

"Certainly." 

"Well,  then,  in  order  to  play  safe  and  protect  you, 
suppose  I  charter  her  from  you,  contingent  on  my  ability 
to  recharter  her  to  some  responsible  shipping  firm.  Under 
those  conditions  would  you  exact  the  charter  money  in 
advance?  You  know  very  well  that  when  I  collect  my 
money  from  the  charters  you'll  get  yours  right  away." 

"Without  question,  Matt ;  but  sometimes  a  fellow  cannot 
collect  his  money  from  the  charterers,  and  then  the  owner 
has  to  wait.  I'm  taking  no  chances  to  speak  of  on  you, 
Matthew,  my  son ;  but  for  the  sake  of  making  it  a  sporting 
proposition  I'll  talk  business  on  the  basis  of  fifty  per  cent, 
of  the  charter  mone}',  payable  monthly  in  advance." 

"That's  cold-blooded,  but  I  can  stand  it.  What  is  the 
Tillicum  going  to  cost  me  a  day  ?" 

"What  kind  of  charter  do  you  want — government  form 
or  bare  boat?" 

"You  might  give  me  an  option  with  a  price  based  on 
each  form.  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea  what  form  my 
prospective  victim  prefers,  though  I  prefer  a  bare-boat 
charter.  I  will  close  with  you  on  whatever  basis  he 
prefers,  if  that  is  satisfactory." 

"I'll  make  many  concessions  to  get  that  vessel  out  of 
the  mud  and  to  sea,  and  paying  a  reasonable  rate  on  the 
money  invested  in  her.  I  hate  to  keep  a  good  skipper 
and  a  good  chief  engineer  on  the  beach,  and  I  want  them 
to  begin  drawing  their  salaries  again." 

Gappy  reached  into  his  desk  and  produced  a  little  loose- 
leaf  memorandum  book,  and  from  certain  figures  therein 
contained  he  commenced  to  figure  what  he  should  charge 
Matt  for  the  ship.  On  his  part,  Matt,  whose  apprentice 
ship  under  the  Blue  Star  had  made  him  tolerably  familiar 


264  CAPPY    RICKS 

with  every  steamer  in  the  fleet,  got  out  a  pad  and  pencil 
and  commenced  to  figure  the  cost  of  operation  himself. 
Not  knowing  the  cost  of  the  steamer  or  the  ratio  of  profit 
Cappy  might  expect  on  the  investment,  however,  he  was 
more  or  less  at  sea  until  Cappy  had  named  his  figures ; 
whereupon  Matt  pretended  to  do  some  more  figuring. 
Finally  he  frowned  and  said : 

"Fifty  dollars  a  day  too  much." 

He  did  not  know  a  thing  about  it,  but  he  knew  Cappy 
Ricks  well  enough  to  know  that  Cappy  would  first  decide 
on  his  minimum  price  and  then  add  a  hundred  dollars  a 
day  for  good  measure ;  hence,  Yankeelike,  Matt  commenced 
to  chaffer,  with  the  result  that  before  he  left  the  office 
Cappy  had  abated  his  price  fifty  dollars  a  day  and  given 
Matt  a  forty-eight-hour  option  on  the  vessel,  agreeing 
to  charter  her  to  him  at  the  figures  specified,  contingent 
on  Matt's  ability  to  recharter  her  to  a  responsible  firm. 

Cappy  chuckled  as  Matt  Peasley  left  the  office. 

"You're  taking  a  pretty  big  bite,  Matt,"  he  soliloquized ; 
"so  I'll  handicap  you.  And  if  anything  goes  wrong,  and 
you  fail  to  collect  from  your  people,  I'll  give  you  a  lesson 
in  high  finance  that  you'll  never  forget,  young  man!  I'll 
bet  my  immortal  soul  you're  going  to  try  to  do  business 
with  Morrow  &  Company ;  and  if  that  outfit  isn't  scheduled 
for  involuntary  bankruptcy,  then  I'm  a  Chinaman.  A 
charter  for  a  year,  eh?  They'll  never  last  a  year.  They'll 
bust,  owing  you  a  month's  charter  money,  Matthew,  and 
the  vessel  will  be  at  sea,  most  likely,  or  in  a  South  Ameri 
can  port,  when  that  happens ;  and  you  can't  throw  her 
back  on  me  until  you  deliver  her  in  her  home  port.  And 
meantime  your  charter  to  me  keeps  rambling  right  along, 
and  I'll  attach  your  bankroll  if  you're  a  day  late  with  your 
payment  in  advance.  Yes,  sir;  I'll  break  you  in  two  for 


EASY  MONEY  265 

the  good  of  your  immortal  soul.  Matt — Matt,  my  son — 
something  tells  me  you're  monkeying  with  fire  and  liable 
to  get  burned." 

From  Cappy  Ricks'  office  Matt  Peasley  called  on 
Kelton  of  Morrow  &  Company.  Kelton,  a  shrewd,  double- 
action  sort  of  person  and  the  smartest  shipping  man  on 
the  street,  looked  with  frank  curiosity  at  Matt's  modest 
card. 

"Pacific  Shipping  Company,  eh?  That's  a  new  one 
on  me,  Captain  Peasley,"  he  said. 

"It's  a  new  one  on  me  also,"  Matt  replied  humorously ; 
"in  fact,  it  is  too  recent  to  be  very  well  known.  We've 
been  operating  a  fleet  of  windjammers,  with  auxiliary 
power,  down  on  the  Mexican  Coast,"  he  added  truthfully, 
calm  in  the  knowledge  that  two  schooners  constitute  a 
fleet  if  one  be  not  inclined  to  split  conversational  hairs ; 
"but  we  sold  them  and  decided  to  go  into  the  steamship 
business.  We  hope  to  buy  or  build  a  line  of  freighters  to 
run  to  Atlantic  Coast  ports  via  the  Panama  Canal." 

"What  steam  vessels  have  you  got  now  ?"  Kelton  queried 
interestedly. 

"Only  one  at  present,  Mr.  Kelton.  We've  acquired  the 
Tillicum,  late  of  the  Blue  Star  fleet." 

"Indeed!"  replied  Kelton. 

He  was  all  attention  now;  for,  though  Matt  Peasley 
did  not  know  it,  less  than  ten  days  previous  Kelton  had 
tried  to  charter  the  Tillicum  direct  from  Cappy  Ricks, 
who,  knowing  something  of  the  financial  condition  of 
Morrow  &  Company,  had  declined  to  consider  a  charter 
unless  under  a  guaranty  of  payment  other  than  that  of 
Morrow  &  Company.  Kelton  was  in  urgent  need  of  a 
steamer  to  cope  with  the  congestion  of  freight,  and  the 
Tillicum  suited  the  purpose  of  his  company  admirably; 


266  CAPPY    RICKS 

hence,  the  news  that  he  might  still  be  able  to  acquire  her 
filled  him  with  sudden  hope. 

"Indeed!"  he  reiterated.  "I  had  no  idea  Cappy  Ricks 
contemplated  selling  her,  though  it  has  been  common  talk 
on  the  street  that  he  made  a  mistake  in  building  such  a 
big  boat  as  the  Tillicum  for  the  coastwise  lumber  trade. 
She  was  too  hard  to  find  business  for,  and  I  dare  say  he 
was  sick  of  his  bargain." 

"Well,  I  thought  we'd  take  a  chance  on  her,"  Matt 
replied,  not  taking  the  trouble  to  disabuse  Kelton  of  the 
impression  to  which  he  had  apparently  jumped — to  wit, 
that  the  Pacific  Shipping  Company  had  purchased  the 
Tillicum. 

"What  do  you  intend  doing  with  her?"  Kelton  con 
tinued. 

"They  tell  me  business  is  good  on  the  Panama  run,  and 
it  will  be  better  when  the  Canal  is  opened.  However, 
until  the  Canal  docs  open,  we  would  prefer  to  keep  out  of 
the  Pacific  Coast  trade.  Competition  always  means  a 
rate  war,  with  consequent  loss  to  both  parties  to  the 
struggle ;  so  we'd  rather  charter  the  Tillicum  for  a  year  if 
we  could.  I  heard  you  were  in  the  market  for  a  boat." 

"I  think  we  might  use  the  Tillicum,"  Kelton  replied. 
"What  are  you  asking  for  her?" 

Matt  named  a  figure  considerably  in  advance  of  what 
he  expected  to  receive  and  stipulated  a  bare-boat  charter 
— that  is  to  say,  Kelton's  company  should  pay  the  entire 
cost  of  operating  the  vessel,  and  select  her  crew  and  officers 
with  the  exception  of  the  captain  and  chief  engineer,  it 
being  customary  among  many  owners,  when  chartering  a 
vessel,  to  stipulate  that  their  own  captain,  in  whom  they 
have  confidence,  shall  command  her.  Cappy  Ricks  always 
specified  his  own  skipper  and  chief  engineer. 


EASY  MONEY  267 

When  Matt  named  his  figure  Kelton  promptly  shouted 
"Thief!"  but  made  the  mistake  of  shouting  too  loud — 
whereat  Matt  Peasley  knew  he  was  not  sincere  and 
promptly  decided  to  outgame  him.  At  the  end  of  half 
an  hour  of  argument  and  much  futile  figuring,  which 
deceived  nobody,  Matt  abated  his  price  twenty-five  dollars 
a  day  and  Kelton  said  he  would  think  it  over.  Matt  knew 
the  charter  was  as  good  as  closed,  and  when  he  left  Morrow 
&  Company's  office  he  repaired  straight  to  that  of  Gappy 
Ricks. 

"I  think  I'll  be  able  to  recharter,  Mr.  Ricks,"  he  said 
confidently.  "Have  you  any  objection  to  Morrow  & 
Company  as  recharterers  ?" 

Cappy  started  slightly,  hesitated  a  fraction  of  a  second, 
and  replied  that  he  had  no  objection  whatsoever. 

"Very  well,  sir,"  Matt  replied.  "Will  you  please  have 
Mr.  Skinner  prepare  the  charter  parties  right  away, 
sign  them,  and  send  them  over  to  my  office  for  my 
signature  ?  I  can't  wait  to  sign  them  now.  And  about  the 
captain — I  suppose  you'll  want  to  put  in  your  own 
skipper,  of  course.  Who  is  he?" 

"Captain  Grant." 

"Have  you  any  objection  to  inserting  a  clause  in  the 
charter  party  stipulating  that,  if  for  any  reason  Captain 
Grant  proves  objectionable  to  the  charterers,  I  may  take 
command  of  the  vessel  myself?  As  charterer  I  will  have 
a  very  vital  interest  in  the  vessel  and  I  might  feel  called 
on  to  protect  that  interest  personally." 

"Matt,"  said  Cappy  earnestly,  "I'll  trust  you  in  pref 
erence  to  most  men  with  any  ship  of  mine.  Still,  Grant  is 
a  very  able  man." 

"He  might  be  too  slow  for  me,  Mr.  Ricks.  I  prefer 
to  have  a  spare  anchor  in  case  of  necessity." 


268  CAPPY    RICKS 

"Well,  have  it  your  own  way,"  Cappy  acquiesced,  and 
summoned  Mr.  Skinner  to  prepare  the  charter  parties, 
while  Matt  went  back  to  his  own  office  and  gave  instruc 
tions  that  he  was  not  to  be  called  to  the  telephone. 

Something  told  him  that  Kelton  would  be  ringing  up 
before  the  day  was  over  to  accept  his  price  on  the  Tillicum, 
and  he  did  not  want  to  be  placed  in  the  position  of  having 
to  give  a  yes  or  no  answer  until  he  had  seen  Cappy  Ricks' 
charter  parties,  with  Cappy's  signature  attached.  He 
would  then  close  up  his  deal  with  Morrow  &  Company, 
after  which  he  would  sign  Cappy's  charter  parties  and 
turn  two  copies  over  to  Cappy.  In  this  way  he  would 
be  enabled  to  play  safe  and  save  his  face  in  case  any 
hitch  occurred  at  the  last  minute. 

The  charter  parties,  duly  signed  and  in  triplicate, 
arrived  from  Cappy  Ricks  in  the  morning's  mail,  with  a 
request  from  Cappy  for  Matt  to  append  his  signature  to 
two  copies  and  return  them  to  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company.  Matt,  after  first  assuring  himself  that  the 
instrument  was  in  order,  called  up  Kelton,  who  informed 
him  that  he  would  accept  Matt's  offer  for  a  year's  charter 
of  the  Tillicum.  Within  half  an  hour  Matt  had  his  charter 
parties  ready  for  Kelton's  signature  and  the  deal  was 
closed;  whereupon  Matt  signed  the  charter  party  Cappy 
Ricks  had  sent  him  and  handed  it  to  Cappy,  together 
with  a  check  for  nine  thousand  dollars — one  half  the 
monthly  rental  of  the  Tillicum. 

Cappy  whistled  softly  through  his  teeth  as  he  handed 
the  documents  to  Mr.  Skinner  and  instructed  him  to  put 
the  Tillicum  in  commission  at  once. 


CHAPTER    XL 

THE    CATACLYSM 

FOR  two  voyages  all  went  well.  The  Tillicura  was 
engaged  in  carrying  general  cargo  to  Panama  for 
reshipment  over  the  Panama  Railroad  to  Colon,  at  \vhich 
point  it  was  reshippcd  in  steamers  to  ports  along  the 
Atlantic  seaboard.  Following  the  universal  custom,  Matt's 
charter  with  Morrow  &  Company  stipulated  settlement  in 
full  every  thirty  days,  whereas  his  charter  with  Cappy 
Ricks,  for  reasons  best  known  to  Cappy,  stipulated  pay 
ment  in  full  every  fifteen  days ;  which  arrangement 
operated  to  keep  nine  thousand  dollars  of  Matt's  money 
in  Cappy's  hands  continuously.  This  fact  graveled  Matt 
whenever  he  reflected  that  money  was  worth  at  least  seven 
per  cent. ;  but,  since  he  was  making  sixty  dollars  a  day 
profit  as  the  result  of  his  deal,  he  concluded  not  to  mention 
this  point  to  Cappy  Ricks. 

Morrow  &  Company  met  the  first  monthly  payment  with 
cash  on  the  nail.  At  the  second  settlement,  however,  when 
Matt  called  for  his  check,  Kelton  requested,  as  a  special 
favor,  that  Matt  allow  him  four  days'  time.  A  clever 
talker,  with  a  peculiarly  winning  way  about  him,  he 
disarmed  suspicion  very  readily,  and  Matt  assured  him 
he  would  be  very  glad  indeed  to  extend  him  such  a  slight 
courtesy. 

Meantime,  however,  Cappy  Ricks  had  to  be  reckoned 
with;  so,  in  order  not  to  keep  him  waiting,  Matt  sent 

269 


270  CAPPY    RICKS 

him  another  check  for  nine  thousand  dollars.  Cappy  now 
had  eighteen  thousand  dollars  of  Matt's  money ;  and  on 
the  fourth  day,  when  the  latter  called  on  Kclton  for  his 
check,  the  latter  actually  made  him  feel  ashamed  of 
himself  for  calling  and  sent  him  away  with  one-half  of  the 
.sum  now  overdue!  This  perturbed  Matt  somewhat,  but 
when  he  showed  some  slight  indication  of  it  Kelton  play 
fully  picked  up  a  glass  paper  weight  and  threatened  to 
destroy  him  if  he  did  not  get  out  of  the  office  at  once ;  so, 
because  it  is  difficult  to  be  serious  with  a  man  who  declines 
to  take  one  seriously,  Matt  forced  a  grin  and  departed, 
with  the  light  intimation  that  he  would  return  in  three 
days,  and  if  the  check  was  not  forthcoming  then  he  would 
fresco  Kelton's  office  with  the  latter's  life-blood. 

"Get  out !"  shouted  Kelton  laughingly.  "I  know  money 
is  tight  and  I  don't  blame  you  for  being  Fido-at-the-rat- 
hole ;  but  if  you  bother  me  about  that  check  for  a  week  I'll 
not  speak  to  you." 

So  Matt  waited  a  week,  and  then  the  check  reached  him 
by  mail,  with  a  courteous  note  from  Kelton  thanking  him 
for  his  leniency.  It  seemed  to  Matt  he  had  scarcely 
acknowledged  the  receipt  of  that  check  before  he  had  to 
give  Cappy  Ricks  another  nine  thousand  dollars ! 

Morrow  &  Company  were  late  again  on  the  third  month, 
but  this  time  they  did  not  wait  to  be  dunned.  On  the  day 
before  the  payment  was  due  Kelton  took  Matt  Peasley  to 
luncheon  and  in  the  course  of  the  meal  he  informed  Matt, 
quite  casually,  that  he  would  be  a  little  late  with  his 
check.  With  two  dollars'  worth  of  his  genial  host's  food 
under  his  belt,  Matt  felt  that  it  would  be  rude,  to  say  the 
least,  if  he  insisted  on  settlement ;  so  he  said : 

"Oh,  don't  worry  about  that,  old  man !  Give  it  to  me  as 
soon  as  you  can,  because  I'm  a  little  pinched  myself." 


THE  CATACLYSM  271 

Nevertheless,  Matt  was  beginning  to  worry,  for  his 
acquaintance  throughout  the  trade  had  extended  rapidly, 
due  to  his  propensity  for  making  friends,  and  he  had 
heard  one  or  two  little  rumors  that  Morrow  &  Company 
had  bitten  off  more  than  they  could  chew  in  a  few  big  deals 
of  late  and  had  been  badly  pinched;  in  fact,  to  such  an 
extent  did  Matt  ponder  on  the  possibility  of  the  company's 
going  into  the  hands  of  the  receiver,  leaving  his  thirty 
thousand  dollars  to  disappear  into  the  ravening  maw  of 
the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company,  that  he  forgot  to 
send  Cappy  his  check  for  nine  thousand  dollars  the  day 
it  was  due.  And  the  next  morning  Cappy  himself  called 
up  and,  in  a  voice  that  seemed  to  come  straight  from  a 
cold-storage  plant,  asked  him  what  he  meant  by  it,  and 
requested  him — though  to  Matt  it  sounded  like  a  peremp 
tory  demand — to  send  the  check  over  at  once.  So  angry 
and  humiliated  did  Matt  feel  as  a  result  of  this  dun,  he 
could  not  trust  himself  to  call  with  the  check  but  sent 
it  by  special  delivery. 

The  Tillicum  had  returned  from  her  second  voyage  to 
Panama  and  was  about  to  commence  loading  her  third 
cargo  when  another  payment  fell  due.  To  Matt's  chagrin 
Kelton  again  pleaded  for  delay;  and  again  Matt  settled 
with  Cappy  Ricks  prior  to  collecting  from  Morrow  & 
Company.  Kelton  had  promised  a  check  on  the  following 
Wednesday,  and  on  the  appointed  day  Matt  called,  only 
to  be  met  with  a  request  for  further  delay.  Kelton 
explained  that  Mr.  Morrow  had  been  taken  very  ill  and 
things  were  at  sixes  and  sevens  in  the  office  as  a  result. 
Could  not  Matt  wait  until  Saturday,  when  Mr.  Morrow 
would  be  back  to  sign  a  check?" 

"What's  wrong  with  Morrow?"  Matt  demanded 
pointedly.  "Has  he  got  paralysis  of  the  right  hand  ?" 


272  CAPPY    RICKS 

"Worse  than  that,"  Kelton  answered  seriously.  "He's 
on  the  verge  of  nervous  prostration." 

"But  can't  you  sign  a  check?" 

"Y-e-s;  but  Mr.  Morrow  generally  attends  to  all 
financial  details." 

"Well,  we'll  excuse  him  from  attending  to  this  detail," 
Matt  replied.  "I  want  a  check  and  I  want  it  now,  because 
it  is  a  week  overdue ;  the  vessel  is  nearly  loaded  and  about 
to  go  to  sea,  and  if  I  do  not  get  my  money — 

"Well,  suppose  I  give  you  half  of  it  now  and  the  other 
half  in  a  day  or  two?"  Kelton  suggested. 

He  looked  worried  and  unhappy,  and  Matt  felt  sorry 
for  him;  for,  indeed,  Kelton  was  a  likable  chap  and  per 
fectly  trustworthy,  and  Matt  sensed  some  of  the  worry 
that  was  falling  on  the  manager  in  his  desperate  efforts  to 
run  a  business  on  short  capital.  However,  Matt's  own 
financial  shoestring  was  too  short  for  him  to  afford  any 
sentiment,  though,  for  the  reason  that  he  was  naturally 
kind-hearted  and  considerate,  he  consented  to  accept  a 
check  for  half  the  amount  due  and  left  Kelton  to  the 
society  of  the  many  devils  which  seemed  to  be  tormenting 
him. 

On  the  sidewalk  he  paused  suddenly.  So  Morrow  was 
«i  the  verge  of  nervous  prostration,  eh?  That  was  bad. 
It  had  been  Matt's  experience  that,  as  a  usual  thing,  but 
two  things  conduce  to  bring  about  nervous  prostration — 
overwork  and  worry;  and  in  Morrow's  case  it  must  be 
worry,  for  Kelton  did  all  the  work!  Kelton,  too,  looked 
haggard  and  drawn. 

"I  must  be  very  careful,"  Matt  told  himself,  "for  if  that 
concern  should  go  broke  while  the  Tillicum  is  en  route  to 
Panama  my  charter  to  Morrow  &  Company  may  be 
considered  to  have  terminated  automatically ;  and  if  they 


THE  CATACLYSM  273 

go  under  owing  me  from  ten  to  twenty  thousand  dollars, 
I'm  still  responsible  to  Cappy  Ricks  for  my  charter  of 
the  Tillicum  until  I  can  bring  her  back  to  her  home  port 
and  turn  her  back  to  him.  Thank  God  for  that  clause 
in  the  charter  which  gives  me  the  privilege  of  terminating 
rny  charter  with  Cappy  in  case  Morrow  &  Company 
terminate  their  charter  with  me!  It  will  be  all  right  if 
they  terminate  it  while  the  vessel  is  in  San  Francisco; 
but  if  she's  very  far  from  home  I'll  most  certainly  be 
eaten  alive  while  I'm  getting  her  back  to  Cappy!" 

He  returned  to  his  office  and  went  into  a  long  executive 
session  with  himself,  from  which  he  aroused  presently 
and  went  down  to  the  dock  where  the  cargo  was  pouring 
into  the  hold  of  the  Tillicum.  Here  he  consulted  with 
the  captain  and  the  purser,  and  obtained  a  list  of  all 
persons,  firms  or  corporations  which  had  furnished 
supplies  of  any  kind  to  the  deck  department  of  the 
steamer.  From  the  chief  engineer  he  procured  a  similar 
list  of  those  who  had  furnished  supplies  to  the  engine 
department ;  and,  armed  with  this  information,  he  returned 
to  his  office  and  dictated  the  following  form  letter: 

Gentlemen: — Please  take  notice  that  we  as 
charterers  of  the  steamer  Tillicum  from  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company,  and  as  recharterers  to  Messrs. 
G.  H.  Morrow  &  Company,  will  not  be  responsible 
for  the  payment  to  you  of  any  bills  for  supplies  or 
stores,  of  any  nature  whatsoever,  furnished  to  the 
said  steamer  Tillicum  since  she  has  been  under  charter 
to  said  G.  H.  Morrow  &  Company.  Any  bills  con 
tracted  with  you  by  G.  H.  Morrow  &  Company  for 
account  of  the  Tillicum  must  be  paid  to  you  by  G.  H. 
Morrow  &  Company.  This  notice  is  hereby  given  you 


274  CAPPY    RICKS 

in  order  that  we  may  go  on  record  as  disclaiming  any 
responsibility  as  charterers  prior  to  the  departure  of 
the  said  steamer  Tillicum  on  her  next  voyage. 

Yours  very  truly, 
PACIFIC  SHIPPING  COMPANY, 

By  Matthew  Peasley,  President. 

A  copy  of  this  letter  Matt  sent  by  registered  mail, 
with  a  request  for  a  return  registry  receipt,  to  each  of 
the  creditors  of  the  Tillicura  of  whom  he  could  get  track. 
He  had  all  the  receipts  in  hand  by  the  last  mail  delivery 
the  next  day,  and  at  eight  o'clock  that  night  the  Tillicum, 
having  cleared  the  customs  the  same  afternoon,  departed 
for  Panama.  Two  days  later  Matt  again  called  on 
Morrow  &  Company  for  the  money  due  him  and,  after 
much  argument,  succeeded  in  getting  it.  He  hastened  at 
once  to  the  bank  on  which  it  was  drawn  and  asked  the 
paying  teller  to  certify  it.  This  the  latter  declined  to 
do — neither  would  he  cash  the  check;  so  Matt  took  it 
back  to  Kelton. 

"Kelton,"  he  said,  "the  bank  will  not  honor  your  check." 

Kelton  looked  desperate. 

"Confound  you!"  he  growled.  "I  stalled  you  until 
five  minutes  before  the  bank  closed,  thinking  you  would 
deposit  it  in  your  own  bank  to-morrow  morning  and  I'd 
have  a  deposit  to  cover  it  by  that  time.  It  will  be  all 
right  first  thing  in  the  morning,  Peasley." 

"It  had  better  be!"  Matt  told  him  bluntly.  "Your 
charter  provides  for  cancellation  in  the  event  that  pay 
ments  are  not  made  as  stipulated,  and  I'm  not  in  a  position 
to  carry  you  or  to  take  any  chances  on  you — and  I'm  not 
going  to." 

"I  can't  blame  you  a  bit,"  Kelton  answered  regretfully. 


THE  CATACLYSM  27$ 

'1  tell  you,  with  the  money  market  as  tight  as  it  is,  we're 
beating  the  devil  round  the  stump  these  days.  Confound 
it,  Peasley,  a  man  has  to  do  some  scheming  and  stalling 
when  everybody  is  crowding  him  for  money,  doesn't  he?" 
The  check  was  not  paid  when  Matt  presented  it  the  next 
morning.  As  he  came  out  of  the  bank  a  newsboy,  crying 
his  daily  sensation,  accosted  him  with  the  first  afternoon 
edition,  and  Matt's  glance  caught  a  smear  of  red  ink 
seven  columns  wide  across  the  front  page: 

SHIPPING  MAN  A  SUICIDE! 

It  was  Morrow ! 

For  about  a  minute  Matt  Peasley  stood  on  th&  corner, 
doing  some  of  the  fastest  thinking  he  had  ever  done. 
Morrow  had  taken  a  short  cut  out  of  his  financial  worries, 
and  Matt  realized  that  the  tragedy  would  undoubtedly 
bring  an  avalanche  of  creditors  down  on  the  unhappy 
Kelton  and  ruin  the  firm.  At  any  rate,  the  concern  would 
doubtless  go  into  the  hands  of  a  receiver,  and  Matt 
Peasley  might  or  might  not  hope  for  his  in  the  sweet  by 
and  by,  according  to  the  amount  of  salvage  reported. 
The  Tillicum  was  seventy-six  hours  at  sea! 

"Matthew,"  Matt  Peasley  murmured  to  himself,  "  'theirs 
not  to  reason  why,  theirs  but  to  do  and  die' — and  all  ir 
one  thundering  big  hurry!" 


r 


CHAPTER    XLI 

WHEN   PAIN  AND  ANGUISH   WRING  THE  BEOW 

CAPPY  RICKS  was  having  his  siesta,  with  his  feet  on  top 
of  his  desk,  when  Matt  Peasley  came  bounding  in,  seized 
him  by  the  shoulder  and  shook  him  wideawake. 

"Well,  young  man,"  Cappy  snapped  querulously, 
"what's  all  the  excitement  about?" 

"Morrow  has  committed  suicide,  and  I  know  the  firm 
is  in  financial  difficulties.  I'll  not  be  able  to  collect  now — 
I'll  have  to  wait  with  the  rest  of  the  creditors ;  and  mean 
time  the  Tillicum,  fully  loaded,  is  somewhere  down  off  the 
Mexican  coast.  Good  gracious,  Mr.  Ricks,  there's  the 
very  devil  to  pay  !'* 

"We  will,  if  you  please,  not  include  outsiders  in  this 
argument  for  the  present,  Matt,"  Cappy  retorted  dryly. 
"The  unfortunate  devil  does  not  pay !  You  do,  Matt.  I 
should  worry !" 

"But  you  can  help  me  save  something  from  the  wreck !" 
Matt  pleaded  desperately.  "It's  going  to  clean  me  of  my 
last  dollar  to  make  good  with  you  on  my  charter,  even  if 
Morrow  &  Company  do  not  make  good  with  me  on  theirs  ? 
and " 

Cappy  Ricks  held  up  his  hand. 

"My  dear  boy,"  he  said  with  maddening  calm,  "listen  to 
me!  I  had  a  hunch  this  would  happen.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  I  declined  to  charter  to  Morrow  &  Company  direct 
tea  days  before  you  came  prancing  in  with  your  head  all 

276 


PAIN  AND  ANGUISH  277 

Swelled  up  with  a  brand-new  idea  for  making  a  lot  of 
easy  money  in  a  hurry.  Me  charter  to  them — me!"  In 
his  superb  scorn  Cappy  waxed  ungrammatical.  "I  should 
kiss  a  pig !  Why,  if  sawmills  were  selling  for  six  bits  each 
I  wouldn't  trust  that  concern  with  a  hatful  of  sawdust — 
not  that  they  weren't  honest  and  capable,  but  they  haven't 
got  any  money  to  speak  of  any  more !" 

"But — but — Why,  dad  burn  it,  sir,  you  said  it  was 
perfectly  agreeable  to  you  to  have  me  charter  the  Tillicum 
to  them!"  Matt  roared,  angry,  hurt  and  amazed. 

"Why  should  I  worry  what  you  do?  I  have  all  I  can 
iio  to  attend  to  my  own  business.  Why  should  I  tell  you 
yours  ?" 

"But " 

"No  ifs  or  buts,  Matt.  I  played  safe;  but  you're 
caught  away  off  third  base  and  now  you're  out !  You've 
got  to  settle  with  me  for  every  day  you  have  that  vessel 
under  charter  until  you  deliver  her  back  here  in  San 
Francisco  Bay  and  formally  surrender  her  to  me.  You've 
got  to  pay  me — and  what's  more,  I'm  going  to  see  to  it 
that  you  do !  Business  is  business,  my  boy." 

"Well,  I'll  pay  you  all  the  cash  I  can  and  give  you  my 
note  for  the  remainder." 

"Your  note!"  Cappy  jeered.  "Your  note!  What  do 
I  want  with  your  note !  Is  it  hockable  at  any  bank  ?  Huh ! 
Answer  me  that." 

"You  needn't  insult  me !"  Matt  growled  wrathf ully. 

"Bah!"  Cappy  sneered.  "You  think  you're  mighty 
smart,  don't  you,  Matt?  Do  you  remember  what  I  told 
you  when  you  declined  to  go  to  work  for  me  and  insisted  on 
going  into  business  for  yourself?  I  told  you  you'd  go 
bust — and  you're  going  right  now.  All  you'll  have  left  in 
thirty  days  will  be  the  clothes  you  stand  in  and  the 


278  GAPPY    RICKS 

coporation  seal  of  the  Pacific  Shipping  Company.  Ho-hol 
Isn't  that  funny?  The  idea  of  a  man's  paying  thirty 
thousand  dollars  for  a  dinky  old  corporation  seal  worth 
two  and  a  half!" 

Matt  Peasley's  face  went  white  with  suppressed  fury. 

"Yes,"  he  said  quietly.  "I  seem  to  remember  some 
such  prophecy ;  also,  some  conversation  to  the  effect  that 
I'd  be  a  better  business  man  if  I  purchased  my  business 
experience  with  my  own  money.  You  said  there  were 
wolves  along  California  Street  that  would  take  my  roll 
away  from  me  so  fast  it'd  surprise  me.  I  must  confess, 
however,  that  I  had  no  idea  you  would  lead  the  pack! 
However,  I  didn't  come  here  to  argue,  Mr.  Ricks " 

"What  did  you  come  for  ?  Sympathy  ?"  Cappy  queried. 
"Because,  if  you  did,  you've  come  to  the  wrong  shop,  my 
boy.  Business  is  business,  Matt ;  I  never  mix  sentiment 
with  it  and  I  advise  you  never  to  do  it  either.  Pay  your 
way  and  take  your  beating  like  a  sport — that's  my  policy, 
Matt." 

"Do  you  want  to  save  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Com 
pany  some  money?"  Matt  managed  to  articulate. 

"Certainly !    Now  you're  talking  business  ;  so  I'll  listen." 

"As  charterer  of  your  steamer  Tillicum,  I  find  that 
Captain  Grant,  the  master  you  installed  there,  is  offensive 
to  me.  I  object  to  the  way  he  parts  his  hair  and  knots  his 
necktie,  and  I  want  a  new  skipper  on  the  ship." 

Cappy  Ricks  slid  out  to  the  edge  of  his  swivel  chair, 
placed  a  hand  on  each  knee  and  eyed  Matt  suspiciously 
over  the  rims  of  his  spectacles.  After  a  long  silence  he 
shook  his  head  negatively. 

"Then  I'll  sue  you!"  Matt  replied.  "There's  a  clause 
in  the  charter  party.  You've  got  to  do  it." 

Cappy's  mouth  flew  open. 


PAIN  AND  ANGUISH  279 

"Oh,  by  Judas  Priest,  that's  right,"  he  said,  and 
laughed.  "So  you're  providing  a  job  for  yourself  after 
the  smoke  clears  away,  eh?"  he  quizzed.  "Well,  you  can 
skipper  the  Tillicum  while  you  keep  up  the  payments  of 
the  charter  money,  Matt ;  but  I  give  you  my  word  that 
the  day  you  slip  up  on  a  payment,  out  you  go  and  back 
Captain  Grant  goes  into  the  ship.  Meantime,  however, 
I  think  I  see  now  why  you  inserted  that  clause.  In  the 
event  of  just  such  a  contingency  as  the  present  you 
wanted  the  privilege  of  jumping  in  and  taking  command 
yourself." 

Matt  nodded. 

"Captain  Grant  is  a  good  man,  but  old.  He  can't  drive 
a  crew  like  I  can,  Mr.  Ricks — and,  with  me  on  the  job, 
that  steamer  will  be  discharged  and  back  in  San  Francisco 
Bay  from  three  to  five  days  sooner  that  she  would  ordi- 
narly.  It  means  six  hundred  dollars  a  day  to  me,  sir,  and 
every  day  saved  is  worth  that  much  cash  in  hand  to  you, 
since  you  profess  to  think  so  lightly  of  my  promissory 
note." 

"Enough!"  Cappy  commanded.  "I'll  admit  that  the 
thought  does  you  credit.  It  was  a  mighty  bright  idea, 
Matt,  and  showed  fine  forethought.  Now,  then,  what  are 
you  going  to  do  to  save  your  roll?" 

"The  City  of  Para  leaves  for  Panama  to-morrow.  Give 
me  a  letter  to  Captain  Grant,  commanding  him  to  turn 
his  ship  over  to  me  on  presentation  of  this  letter.  I  will 
furnish  him  the  funds  to  pay  his  transportation  back  to 
San  Francisco." 

"Fair  enough,"  said  Cappy;  and,  calling  in  a  stenog 
rapher,  he  dictated  the  desired  letter. 

Ten  minutes  later  Matt  Peasley  had  left  the  office 
without  the  formality  of  saying  good-by  to  Cappy  Ricks, 


280  CAPPY    RICKS 

and  was  in  a  taxicab  en  route  to  his  lodgings  to  pack  his 
steamer  trunk  and  hand  baggage.  Cappy  Ricks  chuckled 
as  Matt  went  angrily  out. 

"Ah — that  first  time  a  man  goes  broke !"  he  soliloquized. 
"What  a  blow  to  one's  pride !  What  a  shock  to  the  nervous 
system !"  He  sighed.  "Poor  old  Matt !  Nobody  knows 
better  than  Cappy  Ricks  how  you  feel,  because  he's  been 
there  twice  and  it  blamed  near  broke  his  heart  each  time 
it  happened." 

He  shook  his  head  with  an  air  of  satisfaction,  for  things 
were  going  well  with  him.  He  had  made  a  prophecy  and 
it  was  in  a  fair  way  of  being  fulfilled — nay,  its  fulfillment 
was  inevitable ;  whereat  Cappy,  after  the  habit  of  the 
aged  in  their  conflict  with  Youth,  felt  very  much  like 
shaking  hands  with  himself.  Indeed,  so  pleased  was  he 
that  presently  he  called  in  Mr.  Skinner  and  related  the 
story  in  metriculous  detail  to  the  general  manager. 

Mr.  Skinner  was  delighted.  More — he  was  overcome. 
He  sat  down  and  permitted  himself  the  most  soul-satisfy 
ing  laugh  he  had  had  in  years. 


CHAPTER    XLH 

UNEXPECTED    DEVELOPMENTS 

SKINNER  thrust  his  head  into  Cappy  Ricks'  office 
and  said: 

"I've  just  had  a  telephone  message  from  the  Merchants' 
Exchange.  The  Tillicum  is  passing  in." 

"Then,"  said  Cappy  Ricks,  "in  about  two  hours  at  the 
latest  we  may  expect  a  mournful  visit  from  Captain  Matt 
Peasley." 

"If  you  don't  mind,  Mr.  Ricks,"  said  Skinner  with  a 
smirk,  "I  should  dearly  love  to  be  present  at  the 
interview." 

Cappy  smiled  brightly. 

"By  all  means,  Skinner,  my  dear  boy;  by  all  means, 
since  you  wish  it.  It  just  about  breaks  my  heart  to  think 
of  the  cargo  of  grief  I'm  going  to  slip  that  boy;  but  I 
have  resolved  to  be  firm,  Skinner.  He  owes  us  eighteen 
thousand  dollars  and  he  must  go  through  with  his  contract 
to  the  very  letter,  and  pay  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company  every  last  cent  due  it.  He  will,  doubtless, 
suggest  some  sort  of  settlement — ten  cents  on  the  dol 
lar " 

Act  I 

"Don't  agree  to  it,"  Mr.  Skinner  pleaded.  "He  has 
more  than  a  thousand  dollars  a  month  going  to  his  credit 
on  our  books  from  the  Unicorn  charter,  and  if  that  vessel 
stays  afloat  a  year  longer  we'll  be  in  the  clear.  Be  very 
firm  with  him,  Mr.  Ricks.  As  you  say,  it  is  all  for  his  own 

281 


282  CAPPY    RICKS 

benefit  and  the  experience  will  do  him  a  whole  lot  of  good." 

"I  love  the  boy,"  said  Cappy ;  "but  in  the  present  case, 
Skinner,  I  haven't  any  heart.  A  chunk  of  anthracite  coal 
is  softer  than  that  particular  organ  this  morning.  Be 
sure  to  show  Matt  in  the  minute  he  comes  up  from  the 
dock." 

Mr.  Skinner  needed  no  urging  when,  less  than  two  hours 
later,  Captain  Matt  Peasley  arrived.  Mr.  Skinner  greeted 
him  courteously  and  followed  him  into  Cappy's  office. 

"Well,  well,  well!"  Cappy  began  unctuously.  "How 
do  you  do,  Matt,  my  dear  boy?  Glad  to  see  you ;  in  fact, 
we're  extra  glad  to  see  you,"  he  added  significantly  and 
winked  at  Mr.  Skinner,  who  caught  the  hint  and  murmured 
loud  enough  for  Matt  Peasley  to  hear: 

"Eighteen  thousand  dollars  to-morrow !" 

Cappy  extended  a  hand,  which  Matt  grasped  heartily. 

"You're  looking  fit  as  a  fiddle,"  Cappy  continued. 
"Doesn't  look  a  bit  worried — does  he,  Skinner?" 

"I  must  admit  he  appears  to  carry  it  off  very  well,  Mr. 
Ricks.  We  had  thought,  captain,"  Skinner  continued, 
turning  to  Matt  Peasley,  "that,  when  Mr.  Ricks  agreed 
to  permit  you  to  assume  command  of  the  Tillicum  when 
she  reached  Panama,  we  might  have  been  treated  to  an 
exhibition  of  speed;  but  the  fact  of  the  matter  is  that 
instead  of  economizing  on  time  you  are  about  ten  days  hi 
excess  of  the  period  it  would  have  taken  for  Captain 
Grant  to  have  discharged  his  cargo  and  gotten  back  to 
San  Francisco."  He  winked  at  Cappy  Ricks,  who  re 
turned  the  wink. 

"You  mean  in  ballast,"  Matt  suggested.  Skinner 
nodded.  "Oh,  well,  that  accounts  for  it,"  Matt  continued 
serenely.  "I  came  home  with  a  cargo  of  steel  rails." 

Cappy  Ricks  slid  out  to  the  extreme  edge  of  his  swivel 


UNEXPECTED  DEVELOPiMENTS       283 

chair;  and,  with  a  hand  on  each  knee,  he  gazed  at  Matt 
Peasley  over  the  rims  of  his  spectacles.  Mr.  Skinner 
started  violently. 

"You  came  home  with  a  cargo  of  steel  rails?"  Cappy 
demanded  incredulously. 

"Certainly !  Do  you  suppose  I  would  go  to  the  expense 
,  of  hiring  somebody  else  to  skipper  the  Tillicum  while  I 
was  there  with  my  license?  Not  by  a  jugful!  I  was 
saving  every  dollar  I  could.  I  had  to." 

"Er — er — Where  is  Captain  Grant?"  Skinner,  de 
manded. 

"Captain  Grant  is  free,  white  and  twenty-one.  He  goes 
where  he  pleases  without  consulting  me,  Mr.  Skinner.  He 
means  nothing  in  my  life — so  why  should  I  know  where 
he  is?" 

"You  infernal  scoundrel !"  shrilled  Cappy  Ricks.  "You 
whaled  hell  out  of  him  and  threw  him  out  on  the  dock  at 
Panama — that's  what  you  did  to  him!  You  took  the 
Tillicum  away  from  him  by  force." 

"Captain  Grant  is  a  fine,  elderly  gentleman,  sir,"  Matt 
interrupted.  "I  would  not  use  force  on  him.  He  left 
the  ship  of  his  own  free  will  at  San  Diego,  California." 

"At  San  Diego?"  Cappy  and  Skinner  cried  in  unison. 

"At  San  Diego." 

"But  you  said  you  were  going  to  Panama  on  the  City 
of  Para,  the  regular  passenger  liner,"  Cappy  challenged. 

"Well,  I  wasn't  committed  to  that  course,  sir.  After 
leaving  your  office  I  changed  my  mind.  I  figured  the 
Tillicum  was  somewhere  off  the  coast  of  Lower  California ; 
so  I  wirelessed  Captain  Grant,  explained  to  him  that  the 
ship  was  back  on  my  hands  by  reason  of  the  failure  of 
Morrow  &  Company,  and  ordered  him  to  put  into  San 
Diego  for  further  orders.  He  proceeded  there;  I 


284  CAPPY   KICKS 

proceeded  there ;  we  met ;  I  presented  your  letter  relieving 
him  of  his  command.    Simple  enough,  isn't  it?" 

"But  what  became  of  him?" 

"How  should  I  know,  sir?  I've  been  as  busy  as  a  bird 
dog  down  in  Panama.  Please  let  me  get  on  with  my  story. 
I  had  just  cleared  Point  Loma  and  was  about  to  surrender 
the  bridge  to  my  first  mate  when  an  interesting  little 
message  came  trickling  out  of  the  ether — and  my  wirekss 
boy  picked  it  up,  because  it  was  addressed  to  'Captain 
Grant,  Master  S.  S.  Tillicum.' " 

Cappy  Ricks  quivered  and  licked  his  lower  lip,  but  said 
nothing. 

"That  message,"  Matt  continued,  "was  brought  to  me 
by  the  operator,  who  really  didn't  know  what  to  do  with 
it.  Captain  Grant  had  left  the  ship  and  Sparks  didn't 
know  what  hotel  in  San  Diego  the  late  master  of  the 
Tillicum  would  put  up  for  the  night ;  so  I  read  the  message 
to  see  whether  it  was  important,  for  I  felt  that  it  had 
to  do  with  the  ship's  business  and  that  I  was  justified  iu, 
reading  it." 

Again  Cappy  Ricks  squirmed.  Mr.  Skinner  commenced 
to  gnaw  his  thumb  nail. 

"That  message  broke  me  all  up,"  Matt  continued  sadly. 
"It  destroyed  completely  my  faith  in  human  nature  and 
demonstrated  beyond  a  doubt  that  there  is  no  such  tiling 
in  this  world  as  fair  play  in  business.  It's  like  a  water 
front  fight.  You  just  get  your  man  down  and  everything 
goes — kicking,  biting,  gouging,  knee-work !"  Matt  sighed  ' 
dolorously  and  drew  from  his  vest  pocket  a  scrap  of 
paper.  "Just  listen  to  this  for  a  message !"  He  continued. 
"Just  imagine  how  nice  you'd  feel,  Mr.  Ricks,  if  you  were 
skippering  a  boat  and  picked  up  a  message  like  this  at 
sea: 


UNEXPECTED  DEVELOPMENTS       285 

"  'Grant,  Master  Steamer  Tillicum:  Gave  Captain 
Matt  Peaslej  a  letter  to  you  yesterday  ordering  you 
to  turn  over  command  of  Tillicum  to  him  on  presenta 
tion  or  demand.  This  on  his  request  and  on  his 
insistence,  as  per  clause  in  charter  party,  copy  of 
which  you  have.  Peasley  leaves  to-day  for  Panama 
on  City  of  Para.  This  will  be  your  authority  for 
declining  to  surrender  the  ship  to  him  when  he  comes 
aboard  there.  Stand  pat!  Letter  with  complete 
instructions  for  your  guidance  follows  on  City  of 
Para. 

Ricks.' " 

Cappy  Ricks  commenced  tapping  one  foot  nervously 
against  the  other,  Mr.  Skinner  coughed  perfunctorily, 
while  Matt  withered  each  with  a  rather  sorrowful  glance. 

"Of  course  you  can  imagine  the  shock  this  gave  me.  I 
give  you  my  word  that  for  as  much  as  five  seconds  I  didn't 
know  what  to  do ;  but  after  that  I  got  real  busy.  I  swung 
the  ship  and  came  ramping  back  to  San  Diego  harbor, 
slipped  ashore  in  the  small  boat  and  found  Captain  Grant 
at  the  railroad  station  buying  a  ticket  for  San  Francisco. 
I  had  to  wait  and  watch  the  ticket  office  for  an  hour 
before  he  showed  up,  and  when  he  did  I  made  him  a 
proposition.  I  told  him  that  if  he  would  agree  to  keep 
away  from  the  office  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company 
'  you  might  think  he  was  peeved  at  being  relieved  of  his 
command  so  peremptorily,  and  hence  would  not  attach 
any  importance  to  his  failure  to  report  at  the  office. 

"In  consideration  of  this  I  gave  him  my  word  of  honor 
that  he  would  be  restored  to  his  command  as  soon  as  I 
could  bring  the  Tillicum  back  from  Panama,  and  meantime 
his  salary  would  continue  just  the  same — in  proof  of 


286  CAPPY    RICKS 

which  I  gave  him  a  check  for  two  months'  pay  in  advance. 
He  said  he  thought  it  all  a  very  queer  proceeding;  but, 
since  he  vras  no  longer  in  command  of  the  Tillicum,  it 
wasn't  up  to  him  to  ask  questions,  and  he  agreed  to  my 
proposition.  However,  he  said  he  thought  he  ought  to 
wire  the  company  acknowledging  receipt  of  their  instruc 
tions  with  reference  to  surrendering  his  command — and  I 
agreed  with  him  that  he  should.  'But,'  I  said,  'why  bother 
sending  such  a  message,  collect,  ashore,  when  we  pay  a 
flat  monthly  rate  to  the  wireless  compan}'  for  the  plant 
and  operator  aboard  the  ship,  no  matter  how  many 
messages  we  send?  Give  me  your  message  to  Mr.  Ricks 
and  when  I  get  back  aboard  the  Tillicum  I'll  wireless  it 
to  him  for  you,  and  it  won't  cost  the  ship  a  cent  extra.' 
"Well,  you  know  your  own  captains,  Mr.  Ricks.  They'll 
save  their  ships  a  dollar  wherever  they  can;  and  simple, 
honest  Old  Man  Grant  agreed  to  my  suggestion.  Before 
he  had  an  opportunity  to  consider  I  stepped  to  the 
telegraph  office  and  wrote  this  message  for  him."  Matt 
produced  another  telegram  and  read: 

"  'Blue  Star  Navigation  Company, 

"  '258  California  Street,  San  Francisco. 
"  'Instructions  with  reference  to  change  of  masters 
received. 

Would  feel  badly  if  I  thought  any  act  of  mine 
necessitated  change ;  but  since  my  conscience  is  clear  , 
I  shall  not  worry.  I  always  have  done  and  always 
shall  do  my  duty  to  my  owners  without  thought  of 
my  personal  interests,  and  you  may  rely  fully  on  that 
in  the  present  emergency.' 

"Well,   sir,   that   sounded   so   infernally   grandiloquent 


UNEXPECTED.  DEVELOPMENTS       287 

to  Old  Man  Grant  that  his  hand  actually  trembled  with 
emotion  as  he  signed  it — at  my  suggestion.  You  know 
I'd  hate  to  be  tried  for  forgery.  Then  I  shook  hands 
with  him  and  started  for  Panama  once  more — only  this 
time  I  kept  right  on  going;  and  I  didn't  spare  the  fuel 
oil  either.  Why  should  I?  It  wasn't  costing  me  any 
thing." 

Both  Cappy  and  Mr.  Skinner  winced,  as  from  a  blow. 
Matt  waited  for  them  to  say  something,  but  they  didn't; 
so  after  a  respectful  interval  he  resumed: 

"Off  the  Coronado  Islands  I  sent  you  Captain  Grant's 
diplomatic  message.  I  was  very  glad  to  send  it  to  you, 
Mr.  Ricks,  because  I  knew  its  receipt  would  make  you 
very  happy,  and  I  like  to  scatter  happiness  wherever  I 
can.  The  Scriptures  say  we  should  return  good  for  evil." 

Cappy  Ricks  bounded  to  his  feet  and  shook  a  skinny  fist 
under  Matt  Peasley's  nose. 

"You're  a  damned  scoundrel!"  he  piped,  beside  himself 
with  rage.  "Be  careful  how  you  talk  to  me,  young  man, 
or  I'll  lose  my  temper;  and  if  I  ever  do " 

"That  would  be  terrible,  wouldn't  it?"  Matt  laughed. 
"I  suppose  you'd  just  haul  off  and  biff  me  one,  and  I'd 
think  it  was  autumn  with  the  leaves  falling !" 

Cappy  choked,  turned  purple,  sat  down  again,  and 
glanced  covertly  at  Mr.  Skinner,  who  returned  the  glance 
with  one  that  seemed  to  shout  aloud:  "Mr.  Ricks,  I  smell 
a  rat  as  big  as  a  Shetland  pony.  Something  has  slipped 
and  we're  covered  with  blood.  Incredible  as  it  may  seem, 
this  rowdy  Peasley  has  outthought  us !" 

"Did  you  get  the  letter  we  sent  Captain  Grant  at 
Panama?"  Skinner  managed  to  articulate  presently. 

Matt  nodded  affirmatively. 

"Opened  it,  I  suppose!"  Cappy  accused  him. 


288  CAPPY    RICKS 

Matt  nodded  negatively,  produced  the  letter  from  his 
pocket  and  handed  it  to  Cappy. 

"Where  I  was  raised,"  he  said  gently,  "they  taught  boys 
that  it  was  wrong  to  read  other  people's  private  corre 
spondence.  You  will  note  that  the  seal  is  unbroken." 

"Thank  God  for  that!"  Cappy  Ricks  murmured,  sotto 
voice,  and  tore  the  letter  into  tiny  bits.  "Now,  then,"  he 
said,  "we'll  hear  the  rest  of  your  story." 

"When  did  a  doctor  look  you  over  last?"  Matt  queried. 
"I'm  afraid  you'll  die  of  heart  disease  before  I  finish." 

"I'm  sound  in  wind  and  limb,"  Cappy  declared.  "I'm 
not  so  young  as  I  used  to  be ;  but,  by  Jupiter,  there  isn't 
any  young  pup  on  the  street  who  can  tell  me  where  to 
head  in!  What  next?" 

"Of  course,  Mr.  Ricks,  very  shortly  after  I  had 
rechartered  the  Tillicum  to  Morrow  &  Company  I  began 
to  suspect  they  were  shy  of  sufficient  capital  to  run  their 
big  business  comfortably.  I  found  it  very  hard  to  collect ; 
so,  fully  a  month  before  they  went  up  the  spout,  I  com 
menced  to  figure  on  what  would  happen  to  me  if  they  did. 
Consequently,  I  wasn't  caught  napping.  On  the  day 
Morrow  committed  suicide  the  company  gave  me  a  check 
that  was  repudiated  at  the  bank.  I  protested  it  and 
immediately  served  formal  notice  on  Morrow  &  Company 
that  their  failure  to  meet  the  terms  of  our  charter  party 
necessitated  immediate  cancellation;  and  accordingly  I 
was  cancelling  it." 

"Did  you  send  that  notice  by  registered  mail  ?"  Skinner 
demanded. 

"You  bet! — with  a  return  registry  receipt  requested." 

Cappy  nodded  at  Skinner  approvingly,  as  though  to 
say:  "Smart  of  him,  eh?"  Matt  continued: 

"After  sending  my  wireless  to  Captain  Grant  aboard 


UNEXPECTED  DEVELOPMENTS       289 

the  Tillicum  I  sent  a  cablegram  to  the  Panama  Railroad 
people  informing  them  that,  owing  to  certain  circum 
stances  over  which  I  had  no  control,  the  steamer  Tillicum, 
fully  loaded  and  en  route  to  Panama  to  discharge  cargo, 
had  been  turned  back  on  my  hands  by  the  charterers.  I 
informed  them  I  had  diverted  the  steamer  to  San  Diego 
for  orders,  and  in  the  interim,  unless  the  Panama  Railroad 
guaranteed  me  by  cable  immediately  sixty  per  cent,  of  the 
through-freight  rate  for  the  Tillicum,  and  a  return  cargo 
to  San  Francisco,  I  would  decline  to  send  the  Tillicum  to 
Panama,  but  would,  on  the  contrary,  divert  her  to 
Tehuantepec  and  transship  her  cargo  over  the  American- 
Hawaiian  road  there.  I  figured " 

"You  infernal  scoundrel!"  Cappy  Ricks  murmured. 
"You — slippery — devil !" 

"Of  course,"  Matt  went  on  calmly,  "I  had  no  means  of 
knowing  what  freight  rate  Morrow  &  Company  received; 
but  I  figured  that  they  ought  to  get  about  forty  per  cent., 
the  Panama  Railroad  about  twenty  per  cent.,  and  the 
steamer  on  the  Atlantic  side  the  remaining  forty.  So  I 
decided  to  play  safe  and  ask  sixty  per  cent,  of  the  through 
rate,  figuring  that  the  Panama  Railroad  would  give  it  to 
me  rather  than  have  the  Tillicum's  cargo  diverted  over 
their  competitor's  road  at  Tehuantepec.  In  the  first  place 
they  were  depending  on  business  from  Morrow  £  Com 
pany's  ships ;  and,  with  Morrow  &  Company  gone  broke 
and  a  new  company  liable  to  take  over  their  line,  it  would 
be  a  bad  precedent  to  establish,  to  permit  one  cargo  to  go 
to  the  competitor.  Future  cargoes  might  follow  it! 

"Then,  too,  the  schedule  of  the  ships  on  the  Atlantic 
side  of  the  Canal  doubtless  had  been  made  up  already,  with 
a  view  to  handling  this  cargo  ex-Tillicum,  and  to  lose 
the  cargo  would  throw  that  schedule  out  of  joint;  in  fact, 


29o  GAPPY    RICKS 

from  whatever  angle  I  viewed  the  situation,  I  could  see 
that  the  railroad  company  would  prefer  to  give  up  its 
twenty  per  cent,  rather  than  decline  my  terms.  They 
might  think  their  competitor  had  already  made  me  an 
offer !  Of  course,  it  was  all  a  mighty  bluff  on  my  part,  but 
bluffs  are  not  always  called,  particularly  when  they're 
made  good  and  strong ;  and,  believe  me,  my  bluff  was  any 
thing  but  weak  in  the  knees.  I  told  the  Panama  people 
to  wire  their  reply  to  me  at  San  Diego,  and  when  I  got 
to  that  city,  twenty-four  hours  later,  their  answer  was 
awaiting  me." 

"They  called  your  bluff?"  Mr.  Skinner  challenged. 

"Pooh-pooh  for  you !"  Matt  laughed.  "God  is  good  and 
the  devil  not  half  bad.  I  got  the  guaranties  I  asked  for, 
old  dear !  Don't  you  ever  think  I'd  have  been  crazy  enough 
to  go  to  Panama  without  them." 

Cappy  jerked  forward  in  his  chair  again. 

"Matt,"  he  said  sternly,  "you  have  defaulted  in  your 
payments  to  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  to  the 
tune  of  eighteen  thousand  dollars,  and  I'd  like  to  hear 
what  you  have  to  say  about  that." 

"Well,  I  couldn't  help  it,"  Matt  replied,  "I  was  shy  ten 
thousand  dollars  when  Morrow  &  Company  defaulted  on 
me,  and  I  was  at  sea  when  the  other  payment  fell  due. 
However,  you  had  your  recourse.  You  could  have  canceled 
the  charter  on  me.  That  was  a  chance  I  had  to  take. 

"Why  didn't  you  grab  the  ship  away  from  me?  If  you 
had  done  that  you  would  be  in  the  clear  to-day  instead  of 
up  to  your  neck  in  grief." 

"We'll  grab  her  away  from  you  to-day — never  fear!" 
Cappy  promised  him.  "I  guess  we'll  get  ours  from  the 
freight  due  on  that  cargo  of  steel  rails  you  came  home 
with." 


UNEXPECTED  DEVELOPMENTS       291 

"You  have  another  guess  coming,  Mr.  Ricks.  You'll 
not  do  any  grabbing  to-day,  for  the  reason  that  somebody 
else  has  already  grabbed  her." 

"Who?"  chorused  Gappy  and  Skinner. 

"The  United  States  Marshal.  Half  an  hour  ago  the 
Pacific  Shipping  Company  libeled  her." 

"What  for,  you  bonehead?  You  haven't  any  cause  for 
libel,  so  how  can  you  make  it  stick  ?" 

"The  Pacific  Shipping  Company  has  cause,  and  it  can 
make  the  libel  stick.  The  first  mate  of  the  Tillicum 
assigned  to  the  Pacific  Shipping  Company  his  claim  for 
wages  as  mate " 

"Matt,  you  poor  goose !  The  Pacific  Shipping  Company 
owe  him  his  wages.  Your  dink  of  a  company  chartered 
the  boat,  and  we  will  not  pay  such  a  ridiculous  claim." 

"I  do  not  care  whether  you  do  or  not.  That  libel  will 
keep  you  from  canceling  my  charter,  although  when  you 
failed  to  cancel  when  I  failed  to  make  the  payments  as 
stipulated,  your  laxity  must  be  regarded  in  the  eyes  of 
the  law  as  evidence  that  you  voluntarily  waived  that 
clause  in  the  charter ;  and  after  you  have  voluntarily 
waived  a  thing  twice  you'll  have  a  job  making  it  stick  the 
third  time." 

"If  I  had  only  known !"  groaned  Skinner  miserably. 

"Besides,"  Matt  continued  brightly.  "I  have  a  cargo 
in  that  vessel,  and  she's  under  charter  to  my  company  at 
six  hundred  dollars  a  day.  Of  course  you  know  very 
well,  Mr.  Ricks,  that  while  the  United  States  Marshal 
remains  in  charge  of  her  I  cannot  discharge  an  ounce  of 
that  cargo  or  move  the  ship,  or — er — anything.  Well, 
naturally  that  will  be  no  fault  of  the  Pacific  Shipping 
Company,  Mr.  Ricks.  It  will  be  up  to  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company  to  file  a  bond  and  lift  that  libel  in 


292  CAPPY    RICKS 

order  that  I  may  have  some  use  of  the  ship  I  have 
chartered  from  you.  If  you  do  not  pull  the  plaster  off  of 
her  of  course  I'll  have  to  sue  you  for  heavy  damages ;  and 
I  can  refuse  to  pay  you  any  moneys  due  you." 

"We'll  lift  the  libel  in  an  hour,"  Mr.  Skinner  declared 
dramatically ;  and  he  took  down  the  telephone  to  call  up 
the  attorney  for  the  Blue  Star. 

"Wait!"  said  Matt.  "I'm  not  through.  Before  I 
entered  the  harbor  I  called  all  hands  up  on  the  boat  deck 
and  explained  matters  to  them.  They  had  been  engaged 
by  Morrow  &  Company,  and  the  firm  of  Morrow  &  Com 
pany  was  in  the  bankruptcy  court ;  so  the  prospects  of 
cash  from  that  quarter  did  not  seem  encouraging.  The 
Pacific  Shipping  Company  had  made  a  bare-boat  charter 
from  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company,  and  had  then 
made  a  similar  charter  to  Morrow  &  Company;  conse 
quently  the  Pacific  Shipping  Company  would  repudiate 
payment,  and,  as  president  and  principal  stockholder  of 
that  company,  I  took  it  on  myself  to  repudiate  any 
responsibility  then  and  there. 

"Then  the  crew  wanted  to  know  what  they  should  do, 
and  I  said :  'WTiy,  seek  the  protection  of  the  law,  in  such 
cases  made  and  provided.  A  seaman  is  not  presumed  to 
have  any  knowledge  of  the  intricate  deals  his  owners  may 
put  through.  All  he  knows  is  that  he  is  employed  aboard 
a  ship,  and  if  he  doesn't  get  his  money  from  the  charterers 
it  the  completion  of  the  voyage  he  can  libel  the  ship  and 
collect  from  the  owners.  This  is  a  fine  new  steamer,  men, 
and  I,  for  one,  believe  she  is  good  for  what  is  owing  you 
all;  and  if  you  will  assign  your  claims  to  the  Pacific 
Shipping  Company  I  will  pay  them  in  full  and  trust  to 
the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  to  reimburse  me.'  So 
they  did  that. 


293 

"Now  go  ahead,  Mr.  Skinner,  and  lift  the  libel  I  put  on 
the  vessel  for  my  first  mate's  account,  and  the  instant 
you  get  it  lifted  I'll  slap  another  libel  on  her  for  account 
of  the  second  mate.  Get  rid  of  the  second  mate's  claim  and 
up  bobs  the  steward,  and  so  on,  ad  libitum,  e  plnribus 
urwm,  now  and  forever,  one  and  inseparable.  I  care  not 
what  course  others  may  pursue,  but  as  for  me,  give  me 
liberty  or  give  me  death !" 

Mr.  Skinner  quietly  hung  up  the  telephone  receiver. 

"And,  by  the  way,"  Matt  continued,  "I  forgot  to 
mention  that  I  requested  the  steward  to  stay  aboard  and 
make  the  United  States  Marshal  comfortable  as  soon  as  he 
arrived.  In  these  little  matters  one  might  as  well  be 
courteous,  and  I  should  hate  to  have  the  Tillicum  acquire 
a  reputation  for  being  cheap  and  inhospitable.'* 

"You  dirty  dog!"  cried  Cappy  Ricks  hoarsely. 

"Really,  my  dear  Peaslej^  this  matter  has  passed 
beyond  the  joke  stage,"  Mr.  Skinner  began  suavely. 

"Let  me  get  along  with  my  story,"  said  he.  "The 
worst  is  yet  to  come.  My  attorney  informs  me " 

"Matt  Peasley,"  said  Cappy  Ricks,  "that's  the  first  lie 
I  ever  knew  you  to  tell.  You  don't  have  to  hire  an  attorney 
to  tell  you  where  to  head  in,  you  infernal  sea  lawyer !" 

"I  thank  you  for  the  compliment,"  Matt  observed 
quizzically.  "Perhaps  I  deserve  it.  However,  'we  come 
to  bury  Cassar,  not  to  praise  him;'  so,  if  you  will  kindly 
liold  over  your  head,  Mr.  Ricks,  I'll  be  pleased  to  hit  it 
another  swat." 

"Well,  I'll  admit  that  the  failure  of  Morrow  &  Company 
and  the  Pacific  Shipping  Company  to  pay  the  crew  of 
the  Tillicum  puts  the  buck  up  to  me,  and  I  idare  say  I'll 
have  to  pay,"  Cappy  admitted,  his  voice  trembling  with 
rage. 


294  CAPPY   RICKS 

"Well,  that  isn't  the  only  bill  you'll  have  to  pay.  Don't 
cheer  until  you're  out  of  the  woods,  Mr.  Ricks.  You'll 
have  to  pay  for  a  couple  of  thousand  barrels  of  fuel  oil, 
and  a  lot  of  engine  supplies,  and  sea  stores,  and  laundry, 
and  water — why,  Lord  bless  you,  Mr.  Ricks,  I  can't  begin 
to  think  of  all  the  things  you're  stuck  for !" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it !"  Cappy  cried  triumphantly.  "It  was 
an  open-boat  charter,  my  son,  and  you  rechartered  on  tin 
same  basis ;  and,  though  Morrow  &  Company  were  orig 
inally  responsible  you'll  find  that  the  creditors,  despairing 
of  collecting  from  them,  will  come  down  on  the  Pacific 
Shipping  Company  like  a  pack  of  ravening  wolves,  by 
thunder !  Don't  you  cheer  until  you're  out  of  the  woods  !" 

"Well,  I  have  a  license  to  cheer,"  Matt  replied,  "because 
I  got  out  of  the  woods  a  long  time  ago.  Before  the  vessel 
sailed  from  this  port,  I  sent  this  letter  to  all  her  credi 
tors  !"  And  Matt  thrust  into  Cappy  Ricks'  hand  a  copy 
of  the  letter  in  question. 

"That  will  not  help  you  at  all,"  Mr.  Skinner,  who  had 
read  the  letter  over  Cappy's  shoulder,  declared. 

"It  wouldn't — if  I  hadn't  sent  it  by  registered  mail 
and  got  a  return  receipt,"  Matt  admitted;  "but,  since  I 
have  a  receipt  from  every  creditor  acknowledging  the 
denial  of  responsibility  of  the  Pacific  Shipping  Company, 
I'm  in  the  clear.  It  was  up  to  the  creditors  to  protect 
their  hands  before  the  vessel  went  to  sea !  They  had 
ample  warning — and  I  can  prove  it !  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Ricks, 
when  you  begin  to  dig  into  this  matter  you  will  find  these 
creditors  will  claim  that  every  article  furnished  to  the 
Tillicum  while  Morrow  Si  Company  had  her  was  ordered 
on  requisitions  signed  by  Captain  Grant,  your  employee, 
or  Collins,  your  chief  engineer.  They  were  your  servants 
and  you  paid  their  salaries." 


UNEXPECTED  DEVELOPMENTS       295 

"All  right  then,"  Cappy  challenged.  "Suppose  we 
do  have  to  pay.  How  about  that  freight  money  you 
collected  in  Panama — eh  ?  How  about  that  ?  I  guess  we'll 
have  an  accounting  of  the  freight  money,  }7oung  man." 

"I  submit,  with  all  due  respect,  that  what  I  did  with 
that  freight  money  I  collected  in  Panama  is  none  of  your 
confounded  business.  I  chartered  a  vessel  from  you  and 
she  was  loaded  with  a  cargo.  The  only  interest  you  can 
possibly  have  in  that  cargo  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  Pacific 
Stevedoring  Company  stowed  it  in  the  vessel  and  hasn't 
been  paid  some  forty-five  hundred  dollars  for  so  stowing 
it,  and  eventually,  of  course,  you'll  have  to  foot  the  bill 
as  owner  of  the  vessel.  That  vessel  and  cargo  were  thrown 
back  on  my  hands,  not  on  yours ;  so  why  should  you  ask 
questions  about  my  business?  You've  got  your  nerve  with 
you!" 

"But  you'll  have  to  render  an  accounting  to  Morrow  & 
Company,"  Cappy  charged. 

"I'll  not.  They  gave  me  a  check  that  was  returned 
branded  'Not  sufficient  funds ;'  they  didn't  keep  their 
charter  with  me,  and  if  I  hadn't  been  a  fly  young  fellow 
their  failure  would  have  ruined  me,  and  then  a  lot  they'd 
care  about  it!  If  I  spoke  to  them  about  it  they'd  say: 
'Well,  these  things  will  happen  in  business.  We're  sorry ; 
but  what  can  we  do  about  it  ?'  No,  Mr.  Ricks ;  I'm  in  the 
clear  with  Morrow  &  Company,  and  their  creditors  will 
be  lucky  if  I  do  not  present  my  claim  for  ten  thousand 
dollars  because  of  that  worthless  check  I  hold.  When  I 
collected  from  the  Panama  Railroad  Company  for  the 
freight  on  that  southbound  cargo  I  paid  myself  all 
Morrow  &  Company  owed  me,  and  the  rest  is  velvet  if  I 
choose  to  keep  it.  If  I  do  not  choose  to  keep  it  the  only 
honorable  course  for  me  to  pursue  will  be  to  send  a  state- 


296  CAPPY   RICKS 

ment  and  my  check  for  the  balance  to  the  receiver  for 
Morrow  &  Company." 

"What !"  demanded  Mr.  Skinner.  "And  leave  the  Blue 
Star  Navigation  Company  to  pay  the  crew?" 

"Yes — and  the  fuel  bill,  and  the  butcher  and  the  baker 
and  the  candlestick  naaker,  and  the  stevedoring  firm,  and 
the  whole  infernal,  sorry  mess !" 

Cappy  Ricks  motioned  to  Mr.  Skinner  to  be  silent ; 
then  he  rose  and  placed  his  hand  on  Matt's  shoulder. 

"Matt,"  he  said  kindly,  "look  me  in  the  eyes  and  see  if 
you  can  have  the  crust  to  tell  me  that,  with  all  that 
freight  money  in  your  possession,  you  do  not  intend  to 
apply  the  residue  to  the  payments  of  these  claims  against 
the  Tillicum." 

Matt  bent  low  and  peered  fiercely  into  Cappy's  face, 
for  all  the  world  like  a  belligerent  rooster. 

"Once  more,  my  dear  Mr.  Ricks,"  he  said  impressively, 
"I  desire  to  inform  you  that,  so  far  as  the  steamer  Tillicum 
is  concerned,  I  venerate  you  as  a  human  Christmas  tree. 
I'm  the  villain  in  this  sketch  and  proud  of  it.  You're 
stabbed  to  the  hilt !  Why  should  I  be  expected  to  pay  the 
debts  of  your  steamer?" 

"But  you  used  all  the  materials  placed  aboard  her  for 
your  own  use  and  benefit." 

"That,  Mr.  Ricks,  constitutes  my  profit,"  Matt  re 
torted  pleasantly.  "She  had  fuel  oil  aboard  when  she  was 
turned  back  on  me  sufficient  to  last  her  to  Panama  and 
return — she  had  engine  supplies,  gear,  beef  in  the  refrig 
erator,  provisions  in  the  storeroom,  and  clean  laundry  in 
the  linen  lockers ;  in  fact,  I  never  went  to  sea  in  command 
of  a  ship  that  was  better  found." 

"Matt  Peasley,"  said  Cappy  solemnly,  "you  think  this 
is  funny;  but  it  isn't.  Yon  do  not  realize  what  you  are 


'MY  DEAR  MR.  RICKS,  I  VENKRATK  YOU  AS  A    HUMAN  CHRISTMAS  TREE' 


UNEXPECTED  DEVELOPMENTS       297 

doing.  Why,  this  action  of  yours  will  be  construed  as 
highway  robbery  and  no  man  on  the  Street  will  trust 
you.  You  must  think  of  your  future  in  business.  If  this 
leaks  out  nobody  will  ever  extend  you  any  credit " 

"I  should  worry  about  credit  when  I  have  the  cash!" 
Matt  retorted.  "I'm  absolutely  within  the  law,  and  this 
whole  affair  is  my  picnic  and  your  funeral.  Moreover,  I 
dare  you  to  give  me  permission  to  circulate  this  story  up 
and  down  California  Street!  Yes,  sir,  I  dare  you — and 
you  aren't  game !  Why,  everybody  would  be  cheering  for 
me  and  laughing  at  you,  and  you'd  get  about  as  much 
sympathy  as  a  rich  relative  with  arterial  sclerosis.  I 
haven't  any  sympathy  for  you,  Mr.  Ricks.  You  got  me 
into  this  whole  mess  when  a  kind  word  from  you  would 
have  kept  me  out  of  it.  But,  no ;  you  wouldn't  extend  me 
that  kind  word.  You  wanted  to  see  me  get  tangled  up 
and  go  broke ;  and  when  you  thought  I  was  a  dead  one  you 
made  fun  of  me  and  rejoiced  in  my  wretchedness,  and  did 
everything  you  could  to  put  me  down  and  out,  just  so 
you  could  say :  'Well,  I  warned  you,  Matt ;  but  you  would 
go  to  it.  You  have  nobody  to  blame  but  yourself.' 

"Of  course  I  realize  that  you  didn't  want  to  make  any 
money  out  of  me ;  but  you  did  want  to  manhandle  me,  Mr. 
Ricks,  just  as  a  sporting  proposition.  Besides,  you  tried 
to  double-cross  me  with  that  wireless  message.  I  knew 
what  you  were  up  to.  You  thought  you  had  pulled  the 
same  stunt  on  me  I  pulled  on  you,  and  that  letter  to 
Captain  Grant  contained  full  instructions.  However,  you 
wanted  to  be  so  slick  about  it  you  wouldn't  get  caught 
with  your  fingers  in  the  jam;  so  you  forbore  to  cancel  my 
charter.  You  figured  you'd  present  me  with  my  troubles 
all  in  one  heap  the  day  I  got  back  from  Panama.  I'm 
onto  you!" 


'298  CAPPY    RICKS 

"Well,  I  guess  we've  still  got  a  sting  in  our  tail,"  Cappy 
answered  pertly.  "Slap  on  your  libels.  We'll  lift  'em 
all,  and  to-morrow  we'll  expect  eighteen  thousand  dollars 
from  you,  or  I'm  afraid,  Matthew,  my  boy,  you're  going 
to  lose  that  ship  with  her  cargo  of  steel  rails,  and  we'll 
collect  the  freight." 

"Again  you  lose.  You'll  have  to  make  a  formal  written , 
demand  on  me  for  the  money  before  you  cancel  the 
charter;  and  when  you  do  I'll  hand  you  a  certified  check 
for  eighteen  thousand  dollars.  Don't  think  for  a  minute 
that  I'm  a  pauper,  Mr.  Ricks;  because  I'm  not.  When  a 
fellow  freights  one  cargo  to  Panama  and  another  back, 
and  it  doesn't  cost  him  a  blamed  cent  to  stow  the  first 
cargo  and  cheap  Jamaica  nigger  labor  to  stow  the  second, 
and  the  cost  of  operating  the  ship  for  the  round  trip  is 
absolutely  nil — I  tell  you,  sir,  there's  money  in  it." 

Cappy  Ricks'  eyes  blazed,  but  he  controlled  his  temper 
and  made  one  final  appeal. 

"Matt,"  he  said  plaintively,  "you  infernal  young  cut-up, 
quit  kidding  the  old  man!  Don't  tell  me  that  a  Peasley, 
of  Thomaston,  Maine,  would  take  advantage  of  certain 
adventitious  circumstances  and  the  legal  loopholes  pro 
vided  by  our  outrageous  maritime  laws ' 

"To  swindle  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company !"  Mr. 
Skinner  cut  in. 

"Swindle  is  an  ugly  word,  Mr.  Skinner.  Please  do  not 
use  it  again  to  describe  my  legitimate  business — and 
don't  ask  any  sympathy  of  me.  You  two  are  old  enough 
and  experienced  enough  in  the  shipping  game  to  spin  your 
own  tops.  You  didn't  give  me  any  the  best  of  it;  you 
crowded  my  hand  and  joggled  my  elbow,  and  it  would  have 
been  the  signal  for  a  half  holiday  in  the  office  if  I  had 
gone  broke." 


299 


"But  after  all  Mr.  Ricks  has  done  for  you- 


"He  always  had  value  received,  and  I  asked  no  favors 
of  him — and  received  none." 

"But  surely,  my  dear  Matt,"  Skinner  purred,  for  the 
first  time  calling  his  ancient  enemy  by  his  Christian  name 
— "surely  you're  jesting  with  us." 

"Skinner,  old  horse,  I  was  never  more  serious  in  my  life. 
Mr.  Alden  P.  Ricks  is  my  ideal  of  a  perfect  business  man ; 
and  just  before  I  left  for  Panama  he  informed  me — rather 
coldly,  I  thought — that  he  never  mixed  sentiment  with 
business.  Moreover,  he  advised  me  not  to  do  it  either. 
To  surrender  to  him  now  would  mean  the  fracturing,  for 
the  first  time  in  history,  of  a  slogan  that  has  been  in  the 
Peasley  tribe  for  generations." 

"What's  that?"  Cappy  queried  with  shaking  voice. 

"Pay  your  way  and  take  your  beating  like  a  sport, 
sir,"  Matt  shot  at  him.  He  drew  out  his  watch.  "Well," 
he  continued,  "I  guess  the  United  States  Marshal  is  ia 
charge  of  the  Tillicum  by  this  time ;  so  get  busy  with  the 
bond  and  have  him  removed  from  the  ship.  The  minute  one 
of  those  birds  lights  on  my  deck  I  just  go  crazy!" 

"Yes,  you  do !"  screamed  Cappy  Ricks,  completely 
losing  his  self-control.  "You  go  crazy — like  a  fox !" 

And  then  Cappy  Ricks  did  something  he  had  never  done 
before.  He  swore,  with  a  depth  of  feeling  and  a  range  of 
language  to  be  equalled  only  by  a  lumberjack.  Matt 
Peasley  waited  until  he  subsided  for  lack  of  new  invective 
and  then  said  reproachfully: 

"I  can't  stand  this  any  longer,  Mr.  Ricks.  I'll  have 
to  go  now.  Back  home  I  belonged  to  the  Congregational 
Church " 

"Out !"  yelled  Cappy.    "Out,  you  vagabond !" 


CHAPTER    XLIH 

CAPPY    PLANS    A    KNOCK-OUT 

*I*HE  morning  following  Matt  Peasley's  triumphant 
return  from  Panama  with  the  steamer  Tillicum,  Cappy 
Ricks  created  a  mild  sensation  in  his  offices  by  reporting 
for  duty  at  a  quarter  past  eight.  Mr.  Skinner  was  already 
at  his  desk,  for  he  was  a  slave  driver  who  drove  himself 
fully  as  hard  as  he  did  those  under  him.  He  glanced  up 
apprehensively  as  Cappy  bustled  in. 

''Why,  what  has  happened,  Mr.  Ricks  ?"  he  queried. 

"I  have  an  idea,"  said  Cappy.  "Skinner,  my  boy,  a 
word  with  you  in  private." 

Mr.  Skinner  rose  with  alacrity,  for  instinct  warned 
him  that  he  was  in  for  some  fast  and  clever  work.  Cappy 
sat  in  at  his  desk,  and  Skinner,  drawing  up  a  chair,  sat 
down  beside  him  and  waited  respectfully  for  Cappy  to 
begin. 

"Skinner,"  Cappy  began  impressively,  "for  many  years 
you  and  I  have  been  harboring  the  delusion  that  we  are 
business  men,  whereas,  if  we  can  stand  to  hear  the  truth 
told  about  ourselves,  we  handle  a  deal  with  the  reckless 
abandon  of  a  pair  of  bear  cubs  juggling  hazel  nuts." 

"I  have  s'lfficient  self-esteem,"  Skinner  replied  stiffly, 
"not  to  take  that  pessimistic  view  of  myself.  If  you  refer 
to  the  inglorious  rout  we  suffered  yesterday  in  our  skir 
mish  with  Captain  Matt  Peasley,  permit  me  to  remind  you, 
in  all  respect,  that  you  handled  that  entire  deal  yourself." 

300 


GAPPY  PLANS  A  KNOCK-OUT         301 

"Bah !"  said  Cappy  witheringlj.  "Why,  you  aided  and 
abetted  me,  Skinner.  You  told  me  my  strategy  was 
absolutely  flawless." 

"I  am  not  the  seventh  son  of  a  seventhi  son,  sir.  I  did 
not  see  the  flaw  in  your  strategy.  You  lost  by  one  of 
those  strange  accidents  which  must  be  attributed  to  the 
interference  of  the  Almighty  in  the  affairs  of  men." 

"Lost !"  Cappy  jeered.  "Lost !  Skinner,  you  infuriate 
me.  I  haven't  lost.  Like  John  Paul  Jones,  I  haven't  yet 
commenced  to  fight.  Skinner,  listen  to  me.  When  I  get 
through  with  that  Matt  Peasley  you  can  take  it  from  me 
he'll  be  sore  from  soul  to  vermiform  appendix." 

"If  I  may  be  permitted  a  criticism,  sir,  I  would  suggest 
that  you  let  this  matter  rest  right  where  it  is.  Surely 
you  realize  the  delicate  position  you  are  in,  quarreling 
with  your  future  son-in-law " 

"Agh-h-h!  Pooh!"  snapped  Cappy.  "That's  all  out 
side  office  hours.  I  haven't  any  grudge  against  the  boy 
and  he  knows  it.  I  don't  want  his  little  old  bank  roll — 
that  is,  for  keeps.  When  I  went  into  this  deal,  Skinner, 
I  was  actuated  by  the  same  benevolent  intentions  as  a 
man  that  desires  to  cure  a  hound  pup  of  sucking  eggs. 
He  fills  an  egg  with  cayenne  pepper  and  leaves  it  where 
the  pup  can  find  it — and  after  that  the  pup  sucks  no 
more  eggs.  I  love  this  boy  Matt  like  he  was  ray  own  son, 
but  he's  too  infernally  fresh !  He  holds  people  too  cheap ; 
he's  too  trustful.  He's  made  his  little  wad  too  easily,  and 
easy  money  never  did  any  man  any  good.  So  I  wanted 
to  teach  him  that  business  is  business,  and  if  I  could  take 
his  roll  away  from  him  I  was  going  to  do  it.  Of  course, 
Skinner,  I  need  not  remind  you  that  I  would  have  loaned 
him  the  next  minute,  without  interest  and  without  security, 
every  cent  I'd  taken  from  him  in  this  deal " 


302  CAPPY    RICKS 

"But  why  peeve  over  it,  Mr.  Ricks?  If  Captain 
Matt " 

"At  my  age — to  take  a  beating  like  that?"  Gappy 
shrilled.  "Impossible!  Why,  he'll  tell  this  story  on  the 
Merchants'  Exchange,  and  I  can't  afford  that.  Not  at 
my  age,  Skinner,  not  at  my  age!  I  have  a  reputation 
to  sustain,  and,  by  the  Holy  Pink-toed  Prophet,  I'm 
going  to  sustain  it.  I'm  going  down  fighting  like  a  bear 
cat.  I  know  he  scalded  us  yesterday,  Skinner,  but  every 
dog  must  have  his  day — and  that  dog-gone  Matt's  day 
dawned  this  morning." 

"The  only  tactical  error,  if  I  may  appear  hypercrit 
ical,"  Skinner  said  suavely,  "was  your  failure  to  cancel 
the  charter  on  the  very  day  that  Matt  slipped  up  on  his 
first  advance  payment.  If  you  had  done  that  you  would 
have  had  him.  Don't  say  I  didn't  call  your  attention  to 
the  fact  that  his  payment  was  overdue!" 

"Yes,  if  I  had  done  that  I  would  have  had  him,  but 
how  much  would  I  have  had  him  for?  Paltry  nine 
thousand  dollars !  I  wanted  hirn  to  get  into  the  financial 
quicksands  up  to  his  chin — and  then  I'd  have  had  him  5 
Besides,  Skinner,  I  had  to  go  slow.  Just  think  what  would 
have  happened  if  Florry  found  me  out!  Why,  I  would 
have  had  to  call  off  the  dogs  before  I  was  half  through 
the  job." 

"He's  probably  told  her  all  about  it  by  now,"  Skinner 
suggested. 

"Don't  get  him  wrong,"  Cappy  protested.  "He's  no 
tattle-tale.  He'll  fight  fair.  However,  as  I  was  saying, 
I  couldn't  do  anything  raw,  Skinner.  I  had  planned, 
when  Matt  reached  Panama  and  discovered  he  had  been 
double-crossed  to  pass  the  buck  up  to  you!" 

Mr.  Skinner  started,  but  Cappy  continued  serenely : 


GAPPY  PLANS  A  KNOCK-OUT         303 

"I  planned  to  be  away  from  the  office  when  the  blow-off 
came,  and  you  were  to  have  borne  the  brunt  of  Matt's  fury 
and  despair.  Why,  what  the  devil  do  I  have  a  general 
manager  for  if  not  to  help  me  out  in  these  little  affairs? 
And  besides,  Skinner,  when  he  blew  in  here  the  day  Morrow 
&  Company  hit  the  ceiling,  he  was  so  excited  and  worried 
[  felt  positive  he  was  busted  then;  so  what  was  the  use 
calling  him  for  his  overdue  payment  when  if  I  let  him  run 
on  I'd  have  his  young  soul  in  hock  for  the  next  ten  years?" 
Cappy  leaned  forward  and  laid  an  impressive  hand  on  Mr. 
Skinner's  knee.  "You  know,  Skinner,  we  really  need  that 
boy  in  this  office,  and  it  would  have  been  a  fine  thing  to 
have  gotten  him  and  gotten  him  right.  Then  he  wouldn't 
be  leaving  the  reservation  to  chase  rainbows.  However, 
as  the  boys  say,  I  overlooked  a  bet,  but  I'll  not  overlook 
another." 

"You  said  you  had  an  idea,"  Mr.  Skinner  suggested. 

"I  have.  Just  at  present  there  is  a  libel  on  the  Tillicum, 
and  when  we  lift  it  Matt  Peasley  is  prepared  to  plaster 
another  libel  on  her,  and  another,  and  still  another.  Now, 
as  a  result  of  our  conversation  with  Matt  yesterday,  he 
thinks  we'll  lift  the  libel  to-day — in  fact,  settle  with  him 
for  what  he  paid  the  crew  when  they  assigned  their  wage 
claim  to  his  company,  and  thus  prevent  any  further  libels. 
Now,  if  we  do  that  it  leaves  Matt  in  the  clear  to  commence 
discharging  his  cargo,  but  at  the  same  time  it  makes  it 
incumbent  upon  him  to  slam  a  certified  check  for  eighteen 
'  thousand  dollars  down  on  the  Blue  Star  counter,  in  order 
to  hold  the  vessel  long  enough  to  discharge  her  and  collect 
the  freight.  Then  he'll  turn  the  vessel  back  on  our  hands 
with  many  thanks — rot  him !" 

"I  have  no  doubt  that  such  are  his  intentions,  Mr. 
Ricks ;  in  which  event  he  will,  of  course,  be  ready  with  the 


3o4  GAPPY    RICKS 

certified  check  the  instant  we  make  formal,  written  demand 
upon  him  for  our  money.  I  believe  I  have  already  warned 
you,  sir,  that  we  cannot  cancel  the  charter  without  first 
making  formal,  written  demand  for  our  charter  money." 

"Well,"  said  Cappy,  "we'll  get  round  that  all  right." 

"Pray,  how?" 

"What  time  did  Matt  Peasley  leave  this  office  after  the 
battle  yesterdaj'?" 

"I  should  say  in  the  neighborhood  of  half  after  three." 

"Hum !  Ahem !  Harump-h-h !  The  banks  close  at 
three,  and  they  do  not  reopen  for  business  until  ten  this 
morning.  It  is  now  exactly  a  quarter  of  nine.  Has  Matt 
Peasley  had  time  to  procure  a  certified  check  since  he 
arrived  from  Panama — or  has  he  not?" 

"The  situation  admits  of  no  argument,"  Mr.  Skinner 
admitted. 

"Exactly !  He  didn't  have  time  yesterday,  and  he  sha'n't 
have  time  to-day,  and  to-morrow  will  be  too  late,  because 
his  money  is  due  us  to-day!  We  shall  lift  all  those  libels 
and  free  the  Tillicum  for  him ;  then  we  shall  make  formal 
demand  upon  him  for  eighteen  thousand  dollars,  in  cash 
or  certified  check — we  can  legally  decline  his  check  unless 
certified — and  when  he  fails  to  make  good  we  formally 
cancel  the  charter.  Then  what  happens?  I'll  tell  you. 
We  grab  the  boat  with  a  full  cargo  from  him  as  he  grabbed 
it  from  Morrow  &  Company  with  a  full  cargo.  Then  we 
collect  the  freight  on  that  northbound  cargo  as  he  collected 
the  freight  on  the  southbound  cargo,  and,"  Cappy  con 
tinued  calmly,  "I  dare  say  that  freight  money  will  put  us 
in  the  clear  on  all  those  bills  we're  stuck  for." 

"And  to  do  all  this,"  Skinner  remarked  sententiously, 
"it  is  necessary  to  tie  up  Matt  Pcasley's  bank  account 
the  instant  the  bank  opens  this  morning." 


CAPPY  PLANS  A  KNOCK-OUT         305 

"Skinner,"  said  Cappy  feelingly,  "you  get  me  almost 
before  I  get  myself.  Now  listen,  while  I  give  you  your 
orders :  Go  right  up  to  our  attorney's  office,  take  our 
copy  of  the  charter  with  you,  explain  that  Matt  has 
defaulted  in  his  payments,  and  instruct  our  attorney  to 
enter  suit  to  collect.  Tell  him  to  get  the  complaint  out 
and  filed  within  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  and  then,  the 
instant  he  has  filed  the  suit,  he  is  to  get  out  a  writ  of 
attachment  on  the  Pacific  Shipping  Company's  bank 
account." 

"But  we  cannot  do  that,  Mr.  Ricks.  We  must  make 
formal,  written  demand  for  the  payments  in  arrears  before 
we  can  proceed  to  force  collection " 

"Certainly.  We'll  do  that  after  we've  tied  up  his  bank 
account." 

"But  when  we  get  into  court  we'll  be  nonsuited  because 
we  didn't  do  that  first." 

"I  sincerely  hope  so.  But  in  the  meanwhile  we've  tied 
up  Matt's  bank  account,  and  while  we're  arguing  the 
merits  of  our  action  in  so  doing,  another  sun  will  have  set, 
and  when  it  rises  again" — Cappy  kissed  his  hand  airily 
into  space — "the  good  ship  Tillicum  will  be  back  under 
the  Blue  Star  Flag " 

"But  Matt  Peasley  will  allege  conspiracy  and  a  lot  of 
things,  and  he  can  sue  us  and  get  the  boat  back  and  force 
us  to  render  an  accounting  of  that  freight  money." 

"That  situation  will  admit  of  much  argument,  Skinner. 
However,  Matt  will  not  sue  me.  Florry  wouldn't  let  him ! 
He'll  make  us  lift  the  attachment  on  his  bank  account, 
and  then  he'll  protect  himself  and  tell  us  to  whistle  for 
the  eighteen  thousand  dollars  he  owes  us.  Whichever 
way  the  cat  jumps  he  wins.  What  I  want  to  do  is  break 
even  and  with  a  modicum  of  my  self-respect  left  intact." 


306  CAPPY    RICKS 

"He'll  promptly  file  a  bond  to  lift  the  attachment " 

"Will  he?  Who  in  this  city  will  go  on  his  bond?  Whe 
does  he  know?" 

"There  are  bonding  companies  in  business,  and  for  a 
cash  consideration " 

"Rot !  They  will  investigate  and  ponder  before  grant 
ing  his  application  for  a  bond.  It  takes  a  day  or  two  to 
get  a  bond  through  a  bonding  house,  and  all  I  want  to  do 
is  to  tie  Matt  up  for  a  day.  Now,  listen !  You  see  to  it 
that  the  suit  is  filed  and  an  attachment  levied  on  Matt 
Peasley's  bank  account  in  the  Marine  National.  That's 
where  he  keeps  his  little  wad,  because  I  took  him  over 
and  introduced  him  there  myself.  Well,  sir,  in  the  mean 
time  I'll  call  up  Matt  and  precipitate  a  devil  of  a  row 
with  him  over  the  phone.  I'll  tell  him  I've  made  up  my 
mind  to  fight  him  to  the  last  ditch  and  that  those  libels 
will  not  be  lifted  until  he  lifts  them  himself.  Of  course, 
he'll  figure  right  away  that  he  won't  need  a  certified 
check  to-day,  and  maybe  he'll  neglect  to  provide  himself 
with  one ;  or  he  may  be  chump  enough  to  figure  we'll  take 
his  check  uncertified,  and  if  he  does  that  will  teach  him 
something." 

"Well,  I'm  betting  he'll  not  be  caught  napping,"  Mr. 
Skinner  declared,  "and  if  you  want  my  opinion  of  this  new 
proceeding  I  will  state  frankly  that  I  am  not  in  favor  of 
it.  It  savors  too  much  of  assination.  Of  course,  you 
may  do  it  and  get  away  with  it " 

"Pooh!"  snorted  Cappy.  "Forget  it.  At  ten  minutes 
of  three  this  afternoon  the  libel  on  the  Tillicum  will  be 
lifted,  and  Matt  Peasley  will  be  paid  in  cash  the  sum  he 
advanced  his  crew  for  wages.  That  will  block  him  from 
slapping  any  more  libels  on  her  and  holding  us  up.  Then 
we'll  make  formal,  written  demand  upon  him  for  eighteeH 


CAPPY  PLANS  A  KNOCKOUT 

thousand  dollars;  he  won't  have  it  where  he  can  lay 
hands  on  it,  and  he'll  be  up  Salt  Creek  without  a  padd 

"I  am  not  in  favor  of  it,"  Mr.  Skinner  reiteratt  - 
firmly. 

"Neither  am  I,  Skinner,  but  I've  got  to  do  something. 
Can't  let  that  young  pup  cover  me  with  blood.  No,  sir, 
not  at  my  age,  Skinner.  I  can't  afford  to  be  laughed  off 
California  Street.  And  by  the  way,  since  when  did  you 
become  a  champion  of  Matt  Peasley?" 

Mr.  Skinner  did  not  answer. 

"Since  when?"  Cappy  repeated. 

"Since  he  administered  such  a  thorough  thrashing  to 
the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company,"  Mr.  Skinner 
answered,  "and  did  it  without  prejudice.  He  swatted  us, 
and  we  deserved  it,  but  he  didn't  get  angry.  Every  time 
he  banged  us,  he'd  look  at  me  as  much  as  to  say:  'I  hate 
to  swat  you  two,  but  it's  got  to  be  done.'  Bang!  'This 
hurts  me  more  than  it  does  you.'  Biff !  And  then  he  went 
out  smiling.  I  used  to  think  he  was  an — an — interloper, 
I  thought  he  had  designs  on  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company  and  the  Ricks  Lumber  and  Logging  Company, 
but  he  hasn't.  He  doesn't  give  a  hoot  for  anything  or 
anybody  except  for  what  he  can  be  to  them ;  not  for  what 
they  can  be  to  him.  He's  brainy  and  spunky  and,  by 
thunder,  I'm  for  him,  and  if  you're  going  to  hand  him 
31  clout  when  he  isn't  looking  you'll  have  to  do  it  yourself." 

"Skinner,"  said  Cappy  Ricks  impressively.  "Look  me 
square  in  the  eye.  Do  you  refuse  orders?" 

"I  do,  sir,"  Skinner  replied,  and  looked  Cappy  in  the 
eye  so  fiercely  that  the  old  schemer  quailed.  "This  is  an 
unworthy  business,  Mr.  Ricks.  You're  trying  to  teach 
Matt  Peasley  some  business  tricks,  and  he's  taught  you 
a  few,  so  be  a  sport,  sir,  and  pay  for  your  education." 


308  CAPPY    RICKS 

"All  right,"  Cappy  replied  meekly.  "When  my  own 
general  manager  goes  back  on  me,  I  suppose  there's 
nothing  to  do  but  quit.  The  program  appears  to  be 
impracticable,  so  we'll  say  no  more  about  it." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  eay  that,  Mr.  Ricks,"  Skinner 
answered  feelingly,  and  forthwith  repaired  to  his  owr 
Dffice. 

Cappy  Ricks  gazed  after  him  almost  affectionately,  and 
as  the  door  closed  behind  the  general  manager,  Cappy 
murmured  sotto  voce: 

"Skinner,  I've  been  twenty-five  years  wondering  why 
the  devil  I  liked  you,  and  now  I  know.  Why,  you  cold 
blooded,  efficient,  human  automaton,  you've  actually  got 
a  heart!  Bow!  wow!  Faithful  Fido  Skinner  was  just 
a-tugging  at  the  chain  and  dragging  the  dog  house  after 
him  in  his  efforts  to  eat  me  up !  I  hope  I  go  bankrupt  if 
I  don't  raise  his  salary!" 

He  turned  to  a  pigeonhole  in  his  desk  and  drew  forth 
the  charter  he  had  negotiated  months  before  with  Matt 
Peasley  for  the  Tillicum.  He  read  it  over  carefully, 
tucked  it  in  his  breast  pocket  and  slipped  quietly  out  the 
door.  One  hour  later  a  suit  against  the  Pacific  Shipping 
Company  was  filed  in  the  county  clerk's  office,  and  at  five 
minutes  after  ten  a  deputy-sheriff  appeared  at  the  paying- 
teller's  window  in  the  Marine  National  Bank  and  filed  a 
vrit  of  attachment  on  the  funds  to  their  credit. 


CHAPTER   XLIV 

SKINNEB    DEVELOPS    INTO    A    HUMAN    BEING 

CAPPY  RICKS  was  having  his  mid-afternoon  siesta  in  his 
office  when  Captain  Matt  Peasley  appeared  at  the  counter 
of  the  general  office  and,  without  awaiting  an  invitation 
to  enter,  swung  through  the  office  gate  and  made  straight 
for  Cappy's  office.  En  route  he  had  to  pass  through  Mr. 
Skinner's  lair,  and  the  general  manager  looked  up  as  Matt 
entered. 

"Well,  Captain,"  he  said  pleasantly,  "how  goes  it?" 

"Fine,"  Matt  answered  with  equal  urbanity.  "That 
was  a  slick  piece  of  work  tying  up  my  bank  account.  I 
tan't  get  a  bond  to-day,  the  bank  is  closed,  and  I  suppose 
you're  going  to  insist  upon  payment  of  that  eighteen 
thousand  dollars  before  midnight  to-night  or  take  the 
Tillicum  and  her  cargo  away  from  me." 

Mr.  Skinner  started  in  genuine  amazement. 

"Attached  your  bank  account,  Matt?  I  give  you  my 
word  of  honor  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"Well,  it's  tied  up  by  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Com 
pany,  and  Cappy  Ricks  has  served  notice  on  me  to  call 
here  and  pay  up  or  suffer  cancellation  of  my  charter.  Of 
course,  for  all  the  good  my  bank  account  is  to  me  this 
minute  he  might  as  well  ask  me  to  give  him  the  moon." 

"I'm  truly  sorry,"  said  Skinner.  "I  protested  to  Mr. 
Ricks  against  this  action.  I  assure  you  I  would  not  have 
taken  such  a  course  myself — under  the  circumstances." 

309 


3io  GAPPY    RICKS 

"Cappy  wants  cash  or  a  certified  check,"  Matt  com 
plained,  "and  he's  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  go  to  my 
bank  and  get  either — to-day.  What  am  I  going  to  do?" 

"I'm  afraid  you're  going  to  lose  the  Tillicum  and  her 
cargo.  The  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  will  doubtless 
collect  the  freight  on  that  northbound  cargo.  Besides,, 
Mr.  Ricks  has  some  business  offered  for  the  Tillicum  and 
wants  her  back ' 

"But  I  was  going  to  give  her  back  to  him  as  soon  as  I 
discharged  her  cargo.  Now,  just  for  that  he'll  not  get 
her  back.  I'll  keep  her  the  full  year." 

"But  how?"  Mr.  Skinner  queried  kindly. 

"By  paying  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company 
eighteen  thousand  dollars  in  good  old  U.  S.  yellow-backs." 
Matt  laughed  and  drew  from  his  hip  pocket  a  roll  that 
would  have  choked  a  hippopotamus.  "Skinner,  this  is  so 
rich  I'll  have  to  tell  you  about  it,  and  then  if  you're  good 
I'll  let  you  be  present  when  I  put  the  crusher  on  Gappy. 
His  plan  was  without  a  flaw.  He  had  me  right  where 
he  wanted  me — only  something  slipped." 

"What?"  Mr.  Skinner  demanded  breathlessly. 

"Why,  as  soon  as  my  account  was  attached,  the  bank 
called  me  up  and  told  me  about  it.  I  was  just  about  to 
start  for  the  bank  to  make  a  deposit  of  all  that  freight 
money  I  had  collected  in  Panama — about  twenty-four 
thousand  dollars,  more  or  less — the  Panama  Railroad  gave 
it  to  me  in  a  lump — exchange  on  San  Francisco,  you 
know " 

"So  you  cashed  that  draft  at  the  bank  upon  which  it 
was  drawn " 

"And  I'm  here  with  the  cash  to  smother  Cappy  Ricks ! 
I'll  cover  him  with  confusion,  the  old  villain !  Skinner, 
I  give  you  my  word,  if  he  hadn't  tried  to  slip  one  over  on 


SKINNER  DEVELOPS  311 

me  I  would  never  have  stuck  him  with  all  those  bills 
Morrow  &  Company  didn't  pay,  but  now  that  he's  gone 
and  attached  my  bank  account " 

Mr.  Skinner  rose  and  took  Matt  Peasley  by  the  arm. 

"Matt,"  he  said  in  the  friendliest  fashion  imaginable. 
"You  and  I  have  clashed  since  the  first  day  I  learned  ol 
your  existence,  but  we're  not  going  to  clash  any  more." 
He  pointed  to  the  door  leading  to  Cappy  Ricks'  office. 
"One  of  these  days,  Matt,  whether  you  want  to  or  not, 
you're  going  to  be  occupying  that  office  and  giving  orders 
to  me,  and  when  you  do  I  want  to  tell  you  here  and  now 
I  shall  accord  you  the  same  measure  of  respect  I  now 
accord  Mr.  Ricks.  I've  worked  twenty-five  years  for  Mr. 

Ricks.  I — I'm — absurdly  fond  of  him,  for  all  his — er — 
er » 

"Why,  so  am  I,  Skinner.  I'd  do  anything  to  please 
him- 

"Then  do  it,"  Skinner  pleaded.  "Give  him  a  cheap 
victory.  He's  an  old  man  and  he'll  enjoy  it.  He  didn't 
sleep  a  wink  last  night,  just  scheming  a  way  to  get  a 
strangle  hold  on  you — it's  hard  for  the  old  to  give  way  to 
the  young,  you  know — and  now  he's  inside  there,  just 
hungering  for  you  to  arrive  so  he  can  jeer  at  you  and 
lecture  you  and  make  fun  of  you.  He  doesn't  want  your 
money.  Why,  he  loves  you  as  if  you  were  his  own 
boy " 

"But  how  can  I  let  him  get  away  with  this  deal?"  Matt 
queried  soberly. 

"By  rushing  in  on  him  now  and  simulating  a  terrific 
rage.  Just  imagine  you're  on  the  bridge  of  a  steamer 
making  up  to  a  dock  against  a  strong  flood  tide,  with 
stupid  mates  fore  and  aft,  and  rotten  lines  that  won't 
hold  when  you  get  them  over  the  dolphins,  and  the  tide 


312  GAPPY    RICKS 

has  grabbed  you  and  slammed  you  into  the  dock  and  done 
five  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  damage — just  feel  like  that, 
Matt " 

"If  I  do  I'll  cuss  something  scandalous,"  Matt  warned 
him. 

"The  harder  the  better." 

"And  I'm  to  keep  this  money  in  my  pocket,  and  let  him 
cancel  my  charter,  and  take  that  northbound  cargo  away 
from  me,  and  collect  the  freight  on  me — 

"Exactly  that!  He'll  withdraw  his  suit  against  you 
to-morrow  and  release  your  bank  account,  and  then  you 
decline  to  pay  him  the  eighteen  thousand  dollars  you  owe 
him  until  he  gives  an  accounting  of  the  freight  money 
he's  collected.  He'll  tell  you  to  go  to  Halifax,  but  you 
musn't  mind.  It's  going  to  make  him  as  happy  as  a  fool 
to  think  he  beat  you  in  the  end." 

A  slow  smile  spread  over  Matt's  face. 

"Skinner,"  he  said.  "You're  a  good  old  wagon,  that's 
what  you  are.  I'm  sorry  we  ever  had  any  mix-up,  and 
we'll  never  have  another — after  this  one — and  this  is 
going  to  be  a  fake.  You  see,  Skinner,  if  we're  going  to 
put  one  over  on  Cappy  let's  have  it  one  worth  while — so 
this  is  the  program.  I've  just  arrived,  with  blood  in  my 
eye,  to  clean  out  the  Blue  Star  office,  and  I'm  starting  in 
with  the  general  manager.  Clinch  me  now,  and  we'll 
wrestle  all  over  the  office  and  bang  against  the  furniture 
and  that  door  there " 

As  Cappy  Ricks  was  wont  to  remark,  Mr.  Skinner 
could  "get"  one  before  one  could  "get"  one's  self. 

"Get  out  of  my  office,  you  infernal  rowdy,"  he  yelled 
loud  enough  to  awaken  Cappy  Ricks  next  door.  Then  he 
clinched  with  Matt  Peasley. 

"A  good  fight,"  said  Cappy  Ricks  half  an  hour  after 


SKINNER  DEVELOPS  313 

Matt  Peasley  had  been  pried  away  from  Mr.  Skinner  and 
forced  to  listen  to  reason,  "is  the  grandest  thing  in  life. 
Now  there's  that  crazy  boy  gone  out  in  a  rage  just  because 
he  had  the  presumption  to  tangle  with  me  in  a  business 
deal  and  get  dog-gone  well  licked !  He  put  it  all  over  me 
yesterday,  thinking  I  couldn't  protect  myself.  Well,  he 
knows  better  now,  Skinner  ;  he  knows  better  now !  In-f er- 
nal  young  scoundrel!  Wow,  but  wasn't  he  a  wild  man, 
Skinner?  Wasn't  he  though?"  And  Cappy  Ricks 
chuckled. 

"You  have  probably  cured  him  of  sucking  eggs,"  Mr. 
Skinner  observed  enigmatically. 

"Well,  I  handed  the  young  pup  a  dose  of  cayenne 
pepper,  at  any  rate,"  Cappy  bragged,  "and  I  wouldn't 
have  missed  doing  it  for  a  cool  hundred  thousand.  Why, 
Skinner,  a  man  might  as  well  retire  from  business  when  he 
gets  so  weak  and  feeble  and  soft-headed  he  doesn't  know 
how  to  protect  himself  in  the  clinches  and  break-aways." 

Mr.  Skinner  smiled.  "The  old  dog  for  the  cold  scent," 
he  suggested. 

"You  bet,"  Cappy  cackled  triumphantly.  "Skinner, 
my  dear  boy,  what  are  we  paying  you?" 

"Ten  thousand  a  year,  sir." 

"Not  enough  money.  Hereafter  pay  yourself  twelve 
thousand.  Tut,  tut.  Not  a  peep  out  of  you,  sir,  not  a 
peep.  If  you  do,  Skinner,  you'll  spoil  the  happiest  day 
I've  known  in  twenty  years." 


CHAPTER    XLV 

CAPPY   PULLS   OFF   A   WEDDING 

ABOUT  a  week  later,  Captain  Matt  Peasley  was  studying 
the  weather  chart  at  the  Merchants'  Exchange  when  he 
heard  behind  him  a  propitiatory  "Ahem!  Hum-m-m! 
Harump-h-h-h !" — infallible  evidence  that  Cappy  Ricks 
was  in  the  immediate  offing,  yearning  for  Matt  to  turn 
round  in  order  that  he  might  hail  the  boy  and  thus 
re-establish  diplomatic  relations.  Matt,  however,  elected 
to  be  perverse  and  pay  no  attention  to  Cappy ;  instead, 
he  moved  closer  to  the  chart  and  affected  greater  interest 
in  it. 

"Hello,  you  big,  sulky  boob !"  Cappy  snapped  presently, 
unable  to  stand  the  silence  any  longer.  "Come  away  from 
that  weather  chart.  It's  blowing  a  fifty-mile  nor'west 
gale  off  Point  Reyes,  and  that's  all  any  shipping  man 
cares  to  know  to-day.  You  haven't  got  any  ships  at  sea  !" 

"No;  but  you  have,  sir,"  Matt  replied,  unable  longer 
to  simulate  indifference  to  Cappy's  presence.     "The  Tilli- 
cum  is  bucking  into  that  gale  this  minute,  wasting  fuel , 
oil  and  making  about  four  miles  an  hour.    I'm  glad  you're 
paying  for  the  oil.     Where  are  you  loading  her?" 

"At  Hinch's  Mill,  in  Aberdeen,  Grays  Harbor;  dis 
charge  at  Honolulu  and  back  with  sugar."  Cappy  came 
close  to  Matt  and  drew  the  latter's  great  arm  through  his. 
"Say,  Matt,"  he  queried  plaintively,  "are  you  still  mad 
over  that  walloping  I  gave  you?" 


GAPPY  PULLS  OFF  A  WEDDING      315 

"Well-1,  no.  I  think  I've  recovered.  And  I'm  not  willing 
to  admit  I  was  walloped.  The  best  you  got  out  of  our 
little  mix-up  with  the  Tillicum  was  a  lucky  draw." 

"I'm  still  out  a  lot  of  money,"  Gappy  admitted.  "You 
owe  me  eighteen  thousand  dollars  on  that  charter  I 
canceled  on  you,  Matt,  and  you  ought  to  pay  it.  Really, 
you  ought." 

"That  being  tantamount  to  an  admission  on  your  part 
you  cannot  go  into  court  with  clean  hands  and  force  me 
to  pay  it,"  Matt  flashed  back  at  him,  "I'll  make  you  a 
proposition:  You  render  me  an  accounting  of  the  freight 
you  collected  on  the  cargo  you  stole  from  me,  and  I'll 
render  you  an  accounting  for  the  freight  on  the  cargo  I 
stole  from  you;  then  we'll  get  an  insurance  adjuster  in 
and  let  him  figure  out,  by  general  average,  how  much  I 
would  owe  you  if  I  had  a  conscience ;  then  I'll  give  you  my 
note,  due  in  one  year,  at  six  per  cent,  for  whatever  the 
amount  may  be." 

"Why  not  give  me  the  cash?"  Cappy  pleaded.  "You've 
got  the  money  in  bank." 

"I  know ;  but  I  want  to  use  it  for  a  year." 

"Your  note's  no  good  to  me,"  Cappy  protested.  "I 
told  you  once  before  it  wasn't  hockable  at  any  bank." 

"Then  I'll  withdraw  my  proposition." 

"And  present  a  substitute?" 

"No,  sir." 

"I  guess  I'll  take  your  note,"  Cappy  said  eagerly. 

"I  thank  you  for  the  compliment,"  Matt  laughed;  and 
Cappy,  no  longer  able  to  dissemble,  laughed  with  him — 
and  their  feud  was  over.  Consequently,  post-mortems 
being  in  order,  Matt  went  on :  "I  feel  pretty  sneaky  about 
sticking  you  with  all  those  bills  on  the  Tillicum  that 
Morrow  &  Company  defaulted  on,  just  because  the  law 


316  CAPPY    RICKS 

enabled  me  to  do  so — but  you  did  your  best  to  ruin  me; 
you  wouldn't  have  showed  me  any  pity  or  consideration." 

"Not  a  dog-goned  bit !"  Cappy  declared  firmly.  "I  was 
out  to  bust  you  wide  open  for  the  good  of  your  immortal 
soul.  I  would  have  taken  your  roll  away  from  you,  my 
?on,  by  fair  means — or — er — legal,  if  I  could."  He  looked 
up  at  Matt,  with  such  a  smile  as  he  might  have  applied  to 
a  lovable  and  well-beloved  son.  "I  hope  you've  got  sport 
ing  blood  enough  in  you  to  realize  I  didn't  really  want 
your  little  bank  roll,  Matt,"  he  said  half  pleadingly.  "I 
don't  know  just  why  I  did  it — except  that  I'm  an  old 
man  and  I  Know  it ;  and  I  hate  to  be  out  of  the  running. 
I  suppose,  just  because  I'm  old,  I  wanted  to  take  a  fall 
out  of  you — you're  so  young;  and — oh,  Matt,  you  do 
make  a  scrap  so  worth  while ! 

"And,  because  I've  lived  longer  in  this  world  and  fought 
harder  for  what  I've  got  than  you'll  ever  have  to  fight,  I 
wanted  to  put  about  six  feet  of  hot  iron  into  your  soul. 
You're  a  little  bit  too  cocksure,  Matt.  I  tell  you  it's  a 
mistake  to  hold  your  business  competitor  cheap.  I  want 
you  to  know  that  the  fine  gentleman  who  plays  cribbage 
with  you  at  your  club  to-night  will  lift  the  hair  off  your 
head  down  here  on  the  Street  to-morrow,  because  that's 
the  game ;  and  nobody  shakes  hands  with  you  before  giving 
you  the  poke  that  puts  you  to  sleep.  There  are  a  lot  of 
old  men  out  in  the  almshouse  just  because  they  trusted 
too  much  in  human  nature ;  and  I  wanted  to  show  you 
how  hard  and  cruel  men  can  be  and  excuse  their  piracy 
on  the  plea  that  it  is  business !  I  tell  you,  Matt  Peasley, 
when  you've  lived  as  long  as  I  have  you'll  know  men  for 
the  swine  they  are  whenever  they  see  some  real  money 
in  sight." 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  you  got  the  lesson 


GAPPY  PULLS  OFF  A  WEDDING       317 

over  after  all,"  Matt  replied  gravely.  "You  certainly 
made  me  step  lively  to  keep  from  getting  run  over.  You 
scared  me  out  of  a  year's  growth." 

Cappy  laughed  contentedly. 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  all  this  money  you 
admit  you  owe  me  and  decline  to  let  me  see  the  color  of  for 
a  year?" 

"Do  you  really  want  to  know?"  Matt  queried. 

"I'll  take  you  to  luncheon  up  at  the  Commercial  Club 
if  you'll  tell  me." 

Matt  bent  low  and  whispered  in  Capp  y's  ear : 

"I'm  going  to  marry  your  daughter.  I'll  have  to 
furnish  a  home  and " 

"No  excuse!"  said  Cappy  fiercely.  "Son,  all  you've 
got  to  buy  is  the  wedding  ring  and  the  license,  and  some 
clothes.  I'm  stuck  for  the  wedding  expenses  and  you  don't 
have  to  furnish  a  home.  My  house  is  big  enough  for  three, 
isn't  it?" 

"But  this  thing  of  living  with  your  wife's  relations " 

Matt  began  mischievously,  until  he  saw  the  pain  and  the 
loneliness  in  Cappy 's  kind  old  eyes.  "Oh,  well,"  he 
hastened  to  add,  "pull  it  off  to  suit  yourself;  but  don't 
waste  any  time." 

"In-fer-nal  young  scoundrel!"  Cappy  cried  happily, 
"We've  waited  too  long  already." 

Florry  was  a  June  bride,  and  the  proudest  and  happiest 
man  present,  not  excepting  the  groom,  was  old  Cappy 
Ricks.  He  looked  fully  two  inches  taller  as  he  walked  up 
the  church  aisle,  with  Florry  on  his  arm,  and  handed  her 
over  to  Matt  Peasley,  waiting  at  the  altar.  And  when 
the  ceremony  was  over,  and  Matt  had  entered  the  waiting 
limousine  with  his  bride,  Cappy  Ricks  stood  on  the  church 
steps  among  a  dozen  of  his  young  friends  from  the  whole-' 


3i8  CAPPY    RICKS 

sale  lumber  and  shipping  trade  and  made  a  brief  oration. 

"Take  a  good  look  at  him,  boys,"  he  said  proudly. 
"You  fresh  young  fellows  will  have  to  tangle  with  him  one 
of  these  bright  days ;  and  when  you  do  he'll  make  hell  look 
like  a  summer  holiday  to  you.  See  if  he  doesn't !" 

Later,  when  Matt  and  Florry,  about  to  leave  on  their 
honeymoon,  were  saying  good-bye,  Matt  put  his  huge 
arm  round  Cappy  and  gave  him  a  filial  hug.  Cappy's  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

"I  guess  we  understand  each  other,  sonny,"  he  said 
haltingly.  "I've  wanted  a  son  like  you,  Matt.  Had  a 
boy  once — little  chap — just  seven  when  he  died — might 
have  been  big  like  you.  I  was  the  runt  of  the  Ricks' 
tribe,  you  know — all  the  other  boys  over  six  feet — and 
his  mother's  people — same  stock.  I — I " 

Matt  patted  his  shoulder.    Truly  he  understood. 


CHAPTER    XLVI 

A    SHIP    FORGOTTEN 

THE  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company's  big  steam 
schooner  Amelia  Ricks,  northbound  to  load  lumber  at 
Aberdeen  in  command  of  a  skipper  who  revered  his  berth 
to  such  an  extent  that  he  thought  only  of  pleasing  Mr. 
Skinner  by  making  fast  time,  thus  failing  to  take  into 
consideration  a  two-mile  current  setting  shoreward,  had 
come  to  grief.  Her  skipper  had  cut  a  corner  once  too 
often  and  started  overland  with  her  right  across  the  toe 
of  Point  Gorda.  Her  wireless  brought  two  tugs  hasten 
ing  up  from  San  Francisco;  but,  before  they  could  haul 
her  off  at  high  tide,  the  jagged  reef  had  chewed  her  bottom 
to  rags,  and  in  a  submerged  condition  she  was  towed  back 
to  port  and  kicked  into  the  dry  dock  at  Hunters  Point. 

Cappy  Ricks,  feverishly  excited  over  the  affair,  was  very 
anxious  to  get  a  report  on  the  condition  of  the  vessel  as 
soon  as  possible.  He  had  planned  to  hire  a  launch  and 
proceed  to  Hunters  Point  for  a  personal  appraisal  of  the* 
damage  to  the  Amelia  Ricks,  but  the  northwest  trades 
yere  blowing  half  a  gale  that  day  and  had  kicked  up  just 
sufficient  sea  to  warn  Cappy  that  seasickness  would  be 
his  portion  if  he  essayed  to  brave  it  in  a  launch.  It 
occurred  to  him,  therefore,  to  stay  in  the  office  and  send 
somebody  in  whose  knowledge  of  ships  he  had  profound 
confidence.  He  got  Matt  Peasley  on  the  phone  at  once. 

"Matt,"  he  said  plaintively.     "I  want  you  to  do  the 


320  CAPPY    RICKS 

o19  man  a  favor,  if  you  will.  You  heard  about  our  Amelia 
Ricks,  didn't  you?  Well,  she's  in  dry  dock  at  Hunters 
Point  now,  and  they'll  have  the  dock  pumped  out  in  two 
hours  so  we  can  see  what  her  bottom  looks  like.  I  know 
she's  ripped  out  clear  up  to  the  garboards  and  probably 
hogged,  and  I  can  hardly  wait  to  make  sure.  The  marine 
surveyor  for  the  Underwriters  will  go  down  this  afternoon 
to  look  her  over,  and  then  he'll  take  a  day  to  present  his 
long,  typewritten  report — and  I  can't  wait  that  long. 
Will  you  skip  down  to  Crowley's  boathouse,  hire  a  launch 
and  charge  it  to  us,  and  go  down  to  see  the  Amelia? 
She'll  be  shored  up  by  the  time  you  get  down  there.  Make 
a  good  quick  examination  of  the  damage  and  hurry  back 
so  I  can  talk  it  over  with  you.  I  go  a  heap  on  your 
judgment,  Matt." 

"I'll  start  right  away,  sir,"  Matt  promised,  glad  of 
any  opportunity  to  favor  Cappy. 

Two  hours  later,  on  his  way  back  to  the  Mission  Street 
bulkhead,  he  passed,  in  Mission  Bay,  a  huge,  rusty  red 
box  of  a  steel  freighter,  swinging  at  anchor.  Under 
ordinary  weather  conditions  Matt  would  have  paid  no 
attention  to  her ;  but,  as  has  already  been  stated,  the 
northwest  trades  were  blowing  a  gale  and  had  kicked  up 
a  sea ;  hence  the  steamer  was  rolling  freely  at  her  anchor 
age,  and  as  the  launch  bobbed  by  to  windward  of  her  she 
rolled  far  over  to  leeward — and  Matt  saw  something  that 
challenged  his  immediate  attention  and  provoked  his 
profound  disgust.  The  sides  of  the  vessel  below  the  water 
line  were  incrusted  with  barnacles  and  eelgrass  fully  six 
inches  thick ! 

No  skipper  that  ever  set  foot  on  a  bridge  could  pass 
that  scaly  hulk  unmoved.  Matt  Peasley  said  uncompli 
mentary  things  about  the  owners  of  the  vessel  and  directed 


A  SHIP  FORGOTTEN  32! 

the  launchman  to  pass  in  under  her  stem,  in  order  that  he 
might  read  her  name.  She  proved  to  be  the  Narcissus, 
of  London. 

He  stood  in  the  stern  of  the  launch,  staring  thoughtfully 
after  the  Narcissus,  and  before  his  mind  there  floated  that 
vision  of  the  barnacles  and  eelgrass,  infallible  evidence  that 
the  years  had  been  long  since  the  Narcissus  had  been 
hauled  out. 

"Do  you  know  how  long  that  steamer  has  lain  there?" 
he  queried  of  the  launchman. 

"I  been  runnin'  launches  to  and  from  Hunters  Point 
for  seven  years  an*  she  was  there  when  I  come  on  the  job," 
the  latter  answered. 

"It's  no  place  for  a  good  ship,"  Matt  Peasley  mur 
mured  musingly.  "She  ought  to  be  out  on  the  dark  blue, 
loaded  and  earning  good  money  for  her  owners.  I  must 
find  out  why  she  isn't  doing  it." 

Having  rendered  a  metriculous  report  to  Gappy  on 
the  condition  of  the  Amelia  Ricks,  Matt,  his  brain  still 
filled  with  thoughts  of  that  lonely  big  steamer  swinging 
neglected  in  Mission  Bay  among  the  rotting  oyster  boats 
and  old  clipper  ships  waiting  to  be  converted  into  coal 
hulks,  proceeded  to  the  Merchants'  Exchange  where 
Lloyds'  Register  soon  put  him  in  possession  of  the  follow 
ing  information: 

The  steamer  Narcissus  had  been  built  in  Glasgow  in 
1894  by  Sutherland  &  Sons,  Limited.  She  was  four 
hundred  and  fifty-five  feet  long,  fifty-eight  feet  beam  and 
thirty-one  feet  draft.  She  had  triple-expansion  engines 
of  two  thousand  indicated  horse  power,  two  Scotch  boilers, 
and  was  of  seventy-five  hundred  tons  net  register. 

"Huh !"  Matt  murmured.  "She'll  carry  forty  per  cent, 
more  than  her  registered  tonnage ;  if  I  had  the  loading  of 


322  CAPPY    RICKS 

htr  she'd  carry  fifty  per  cent,  more,  at  certain  seasons 
of  the  year.  I  wonder  why  her  owners  have  let  her  lie 
idle  for  eight  years?  I'll  have  to  ask  Jerry  Dooley.  He 
knows  everything  about  ships  that  a  landsman  can  possibly 
know." 

Jerry  Dooley  had  presided  over  the  desk  at  the 
Merchants'  Exchange  for  so  many  years  that  there  was 
a  rumor  current  to  the  effect  that  he  had  been  there  in 
the  days  when  the  water  used  to  come  up  to  Montgomery 
Street.  Before  Jerry's  desk  the  skippers  of  all  nations 
came  and  went ;  to  him  there  drifted  inevitably  all  of  the 
little,  intimate  gossip  of  the  shipping  world.  If  somebody 
built  a  ship  and  she  had  trouble  with  her  oil  burners  on 
the  trial  trip,  Jerry  Dooley  would  know  all  about  it  before 
that  vessel  got  back  to  her  dock  again.  If  somebody 
else's  ship  was  a  wet  boat,  Jerry  knew  of  it,  and  could, 
moreover,  give  one  the  name  of  the  naval  architect  respon 
sible  ;  if  a  vessel  had  been  hogged  on  a  reef,  Jerry  could 
tell  you  the  name  of  the  reef,  the  date  of  the  wreck,  the 
location  of  the  hog,  and  all  about  the  trouble  they  had 
keeping  her  cargo  dry  as  a  result.  To  this  human  encyclo 
pedia,  therefore,  did  Matt  Peasley  come  in  his  still-hunt 
for  information  touching  the  steamer  Narcissus. 

He  opened  negotiations  by  handing  Jerry  Dooley  a  good 
cigar.  Jerry  examined  it,  saw  that  it  was  a  good  cigar, 
and  said:  "I  don't  smoke  myself,  but  I  have  a  brother 
that  does."  He  fixed  Matt  Peasley  with  an  alert,  inquisi 
tive  eye  and  said:  "Well,  what  do  you  know,  Captain?" 

"Nothing  much.  What  do  you  know  about  the  steamer 
Narcissus  ?" 

Jerry  Dooley  scratched  his  red  head. 

"Narcissus !"  he  murmured.  "Narcissus !  By  George, 
it's  a  long  time  since  I  heard  of  her.  Has  she  just  come 


A  SHIP  FORGOTTEN  323 

into  port?"  And  he  glanced  apprehensively  at  the  register 
of  arrivals  and  departures,  wondering  if  he  hadn't  over 
looked  the  Narcissus. 

"She's  been  in  port  eight  years  at  least,"  Matt 
answered;  "tucked  away  down  in  Mission  Bay,  with  a 
watchman  aboard." 

"Oh,  I  remember  now."  Jerry  replied.  "She  belongs 
to  the  Oriental  Steamship  Company.  Old  man  Webb,  of 
the  Oriental  Company,  got  all  worked  up  about  the 
possibilities  of  the  Oriental  trade  right  after  the  Spanish 
War.  He  had  a  lot  of  old  bottoms  running  in  the  com 
bined  freight  and  passenger  trade  and  not  making 
expenses  when  the  war  came  along,  and  the  Government 
grabbed  all  his  boats  for  transports  to  rush  troops  over 
to  the  Philippines.  That  was  fine  business  for  quite  a 
while  and  the  Oriental  got  out  of  the  hole  and  made  a  lot 
of  money  besides.  About  that  time  Old  Webb  saw  a  vision 
of  huge  Oriental  trade  for  the  man  who  would  go  after  it, 
and  in  his  excitement  he  purchased  the  Narcissus.  She 
carried  horses  down  to  the  Philippines,  and  to  China 
during  the  Boxer  uprising;  and  when  that  business  was 
over,  and  while  old  Webb  was  waiting  for  the  expected 
boom  in  trade  to  the  Orient,  he  got  a  lumber  charter  for 
her  from  Puget  Sound  to  Australia.  But  she  was  never 
built  for  a  lumber  boat,  though  she  carried  six  million  five 
hundred  thousand  feet ;  she  was  so  big  and  it  took  so  long 
to  load  and  discharge  her  that  she  lost  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  on  the  voyage.  Run  her  in  the  lumber 
trade  and  the  demurrage  would  break  a  national  bank. 

"Well,  sir,  after  that  lumber  charter,  old  man  Webb 
had  a  fit.  He  tried  her  out  on  a  few  grain  charters,  but 
she  didn't  make  any  money  to  speak  of;  and  about  that 
time  the  P.  &  S.  WM  with  a  view  to  grabbing  some  Oriental 


324  CAPPY    RICKS 

freight  for  their  roau,  got  the  control  of  the  steamship 
company  away  from  Webb.  The  Oriental  trade  boom 
never  developed,  and  the  regular  steamers,  carrying  freight 
and  passengers,  were  ample  to  cope  with  what  business 
the  company  was  offered;  so  they  didn't  need  the 
Narcissus. 

"As  I  remember  it,  she  was  expensive  to  operate.  She 
had  a  punk  pair  of  boilers  or  she  needed  another  boiler — 
or  something;  at  any  rate,  she  was  a  hog  on  coal,  and 
they  laid  her  up  until  such  time  as  they  could  find  use 
for  her.  I  suppose  after  she  was  laid  up  a  few  years  the 
thought  of  all  the  money  it  would  cost  to  put  her  in 
commission  again  discouraged  them — and  she's  been  down 
in  Mission  Bay  ever  since." 

"But  the  Canal  will  soon  be  open,"  Matt  suggested. 
"One  would  suppose  they'd  put  her  in  commission  and  find 
business  for  her  between  Pacific  and  Atlantic  coast  ports." 

"You  forget  she's  a  foreign-built  vessel  and  hence  can 
not  run  between  American  ports." 

"She  can  run  between  North  and  South  American 
ports,"  Matt  replied  doggedly.  "I  bet  if  I  owned  her  I'd 
dig  up  enough  business  in  Brazil  and  the  Argentine  to 
keep  her  busy.  I'd  be  dodging  backward  and  forward 
through  the  Canal." 

"You  would,  of  course,"  Jerry  answered  placidly ;  "but 
the  Oriental  Steamship  Company  cannot." 

"Why?" 

"Fifty-one  per  cent,  of  their  stock  is  owned  by  a  rail 
road — and  under  the  law  no  railroad-owned  ship  may  use 
the  Canal." 

Matt's  eyebrows  arched. 

"Ah!"  he  murmured.  "Then  that's  one  of  the  reasons 
why  she's  a  white  elephant  on  their  hands." 


A  SHIP  FORGOTTEN  325 

"Got  a  customer  for  her  ?"  Jerry  queried  shrewdly.  "A 
fellow  ought  to  be  able  to  pick  the  Narcissus  up  rather 
cheap." 

Matt  shook  his  head  negatively. 

"Happened  to  pass  her  in  a  launch  a  couple  of  hours 
igo,  and  the  sight  of  the  barnacles  on  her  bottom  just 
naturally  graveled  me  and  roused  my  curiosity.  Much 
obliged  for  your  information."  And  Matt  excused  himself 
and  strolled  over  to  the  counter  of  the  Hydro-graphic 
Office  to  look  over  the  recent  bulletins  to  masters. 

The  information  that  the  whistling  buoy  off  Duxbury 
Reef  had  gone  adrift  and  that  Blunt's  Reef  Lightship 
would  be  withdrawn  for  fifteen  days  for  repairs  and 
docking  interested  him  but  little,  however.  In  his  mind's 
eye  there  loomed  the  picture  of  that  great  red  freighter, 
with  her  foul  bottom,  rusty  funnel  and  unpainted,  weather- 
beaten  upper  works. 

"Her  bridge  is  pretty  well  exposed  to  the  weather,"  he 
murmured.  "I'd  build  it  up  so  the  man  on  watch  could 
just  look  over  it.  I  noticed  they'd  had  the  good  sense 
to  house  over  her  winches,  so  I  dare  say  they're  in  good 
shape ;  her  paint  will  have  prevented  rust  below  the  water 
line,  and  I'll  bet  she's  as  sound  as  the  day  she  was  built. 
I  think  I'd  paint  her  dead  black,  with  red  underbody  and 
terra-cotta  upper  works."  He  pondered.  "Yes,  and  I'd 
paint  her  funnel  dead  black,  too,  with  a  broad  red  band; 
and  on  both  sides  of  the  funnel,  in  the  center  of  this  red 
band,  I'd  have  a  white  diamond  with  a  black  P  in  the  center 
of  it.  By  George,  they'd  know  the  Peasley  Line  as  far  as 
they  could  see  it!" 

He  would  have  dreamed  on  had  he  not  bethought  himseU" 
suddenly  of  his  modest  capital — fifty  thousand-odd  dol 
lars,  out  of  which  he  owed  Gappy  Ricks  a  considerable 


326  CAPPY    RICKS 

sum  on  a  promissory  note  due  in  one  year.  On  such  a 
meager  bank  balance  it  would  not  do  to  dream  of  buying 
a  vessel  worth  nearly  four  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
,Why,  it  would  require  twenty  thousand  dollars  to  put  her 
in  commission  after  all  these  years  of  idleness,  and  she  had 
to  have  another  boiler  because  she  was  a  hog  on  coal ; 
and,  in  addition,  her  operating  cost  would  be  between  nine 
and  ten  thousand  dollars  a  month. 

Matt  shook  his  head  and  looked  round  the  great  room 
as  though  in  search  of  inspiration.  He  found  it.  His 
wandering  glance  finally  came  to  rest  on  Jerry  Doolcy's 
alert  countenance.  Jerry  crooked  a  finger  at  him  and 
Matt  strolled  over  to  the  desk. 

"I've  been  watching  you  milling  the  idea  round  in  your 
head,"  said  Jerry.  "I  saw  you  reject  it.  You're  crazy! 
It  can  be  done." 

"How?"  Matt  queried  eagerly. 

"Go  get  an  option  on  her  for  the  lowest  price  you  can 
get — then  form  a  syndicate  and  sell  her  to  them  at  a 
higher  price ;  or,  if  you  don't  want  to  do  that,  form  your 
syndicate  to  buy  her  at  the  option  price,  and  if  you  work 
it  right  you  can  get  the  job  of  managing  owner.  I  want 
to  tell  3rou  that  two  and  one-half  per  cent,  commission  on 
her  freight  earnings  would  make  a  nice  income." 

"I  wonder  whom  I  could  get  into  the  syndicate?"  Matt 
queried. 

Jerry  scratched  his  head. 

"Well,"  he  suggested,  "you're  mighty  close  to  old  Cappy 
Ricks.  If  you  could  hook  him  for  a  piece  of  her,  the  rest 
would  be  easy.  Any  shipping  man  on  the  Street  will 
follow  where  Cappy  Ricks  leads.  I'd  try  Pollard  &  Reilly ; 
Redell,  of  the  West  Coast  Trading  Company ;  Jack  Havi- 
land,  the  ship  chandler ;  Charley  Beyers,  the  ship's  grocer 


A  SHIP  FORGOTTEN  327] 

.<*•• 

and  butcher ;  A.  B.  Cahill  &  Co.,  the  coal  dealers ;  Pete 
Hansen,  of  the  Bulkhead  Hotel  down  on  the  Embarcadero 
• — he's  always  got  a  couple  of  thousand  dollars  to  put  into 
a  clean-cut  shipping  enterprise.  Then  there's  Rickey,  the 
ship-builder,  and — yes,  even  Alcott,  the  crimp,  will  take 
a  piece  of  her.  I'd  look  in  on  Louis  Wiley,  the 
chronometer  man,  and  Cox,  the  coppersmith — why  I'd 
take  in  every  firm  and  individual  who  might  hope  to  get 
business  out  of  the  ship ;  and,  you  bet,  I'd  sell  'em  all  a 
little  block  of  stock  in  the  S.  S.  Narcissus  Company." 

"It  might  be  done,"  Matt  answered  evasively.  "I'll 
think  it  over." 

He  did  think  it  over  very  seriously  the  greater  portion 
of  that  night.  As  a  result,  instead  of  going  to  his  office 
next  morning  he  went  to  Mission  Street  bulkhead  and 
engaged  a  launch,  and  forty  minutes  later,  in  response  to 
his  hail,  the  aged  watchman  aboard  the  Narcissus  came 
to  the  rail  and  asked  him  what  he  wanted. 

"I  want  to  come  aboard !"  Matt  shouted. 

"Got  a  permit  from  the  office?" 

"No." 

"Orders  are  to  allow  nobody  aboard  without  a  permit." 

"How  do  you  like  the  color  of  this  permit?"  Matt 
called  back,  and  waved  a  greenback. 

The  answer  came  in  the  shape  of  a  Jacob's  ladder 
promptly  tossed  overside  and  Matt  Peasley  mounted  the 
towering  hulk  of  the  Narcissus. 

"What  do  you  want?"  the  watchman  Again  (demanded 
as  he  pouched  the  bill  Matt  handed  him. 

"I  want  to  examine  this  vessel  from  bilge  to  truck," 
Matt  answered.  "I'll  begin  with  a  look  at  the  winches." 

As  he  had  surmised,  the  winches  had  been  housed  over 
and  fairly  buried  in  grease  when  the  ship  laid  up ;  hence 


328  CAPPl'    RICKS 

they  were  in  absolutely  perfect  condition.  The  engines, 
too,  had  received  the  best  of  care,  as  nearly  as  Matt  could 
judge  from  a  cursory  view.  Her  cargo  space  was  littered 
up  with  a  number  of  grain  chutes,  which  would  have  to 
come  out ;  and  her  boats,  which  had  been  stored  in  the 
empty  hold  aft,  away  from  the  weather,  were  in  tiptop 
shape.  She  had  a  spare  anchor,  plenty  of  chain,  wire 
cable  and  Manila  lines,  though  these  latter  would  doubtless 
have  to  be  renewed  in  their  entirety,  owing  to  deterioration 
from  age. 

Her  crew  quarters  were  commodious  and  ample,  and 
the  officers'  quarters  all  that  could  be  desired;  her  galley 
equipment  was  complete,  even  to  a  small  auxiliary  ice 
plant.  What  she  needed  was  cleaning,  painting  and 
scraping,  and  lots  of  it,  also  the  riggers  would  be  a  few 
days  on  her  standing  rigging;  but,  so  far  as  Matt  could 
discern,  that  was  all.  From  the  watchman  he  learned 
that  one  Terence  Reardon  had  been  her  chief  engineer  in 
the  days  when  the  Oriental  Steamship  Company  first 
owned  her. 

From  the  Narcissus,  Matt  Peasley  returned  to  the  city 
and  went  at  once  to  the  office  of  the  Marine  Engineers' 
Association,  where  he  made  inquiry  for  Terence  Reardon. 
It  appeared  that  Terence  was  chief  of  the  Arab,  loading 
grain  at  Port  Costa ;  so  to  Port  Costa  Matt  Peasley  went 
to  interview  him.  He  found  Reardon  on  deck,  enjoying 
a  short  pipe  and  a  breath  of  cool  air,  and  introduced 
himself. 

"I  understand  you  were  the  chief  of  the  Narcissus  at 
one  time,  Mr.  Reardon,"  Matt  began  abruptly.  "I  under 
stand,  also,  that  under  your  coaxing  you  used  to  get  ten 
miles  out  of  her  loaded." 

Parenthetically,  it  may  be  stated  that  Matt  Peasley 


A  SHIP  FORGOTTEN  329 

hod  never  heard  anything  of  the  sort;  but  he  knew  the 
weaknesses  of  chief  engineers  and  decided  to  try  a  shot 
in  the  dark,  hoping,  by  the  grace  of  the  devil  and  the  luck 
of  a  sailor,  to  score  a  bull's-eye.  He  succeeded  at  least  in 
ringing  the  bell. 

"Coax,  is  it?"  murmured  Terence  Reardon  in  his  deep 
Kerry  brogue.  "Faith,  thin,  the  Narcissus  niver  laid  eye 
on  the  day  she  could  do  nine  an'  a  half  wit'  the  kindliest 
av  treatment.  Wirrah,  but  'tis  herself  was  the  glutton  for 
coal.  Sure,  whin  I'd  hand  in  me  report  to  ould  Webb,  and 
he'd  see  where  she'd  averaged  forty  ton  a  day,  the  big 
tears'd  come  into  the  two  eyes  av  him — the  Lord  ha* 
mercy  on  his  sowl!" 

"You  never  had  any  trouble  with  her  engines,"  Matt 
suggested. 

"I  had  throuble  keepin'  shteam  enough  in  the  b'ilers  to 
run  thim ;  but  I'll  say  this  for  her  ingines :  Give  them  a 
chancet  an'  they'd  run  like  a  chronometer." 

"Would  you  consider  an  offer  to  leave  the  Arab  and 
be  chief  of  the  Narcissus?"  Matt  queried.  "I'm  thinking 
of  buying  her,  and  if  I  do  I'll  give  you  twenty-five  dollars 
a  month  above  the  regular  Association  scale." 

"I'll  go  ye,"  murmured  Reardon,  "on  wan  condition: 
Ye'll  shpend  some  money  in  her  ingine  room,  else  'tis  no 
matther  av  use  for  ye  to  talk  to  me.  I'll  not  be  afther 
breakin'  me  poor  heart  for  the  sake  av  twenty-five  dollars 
a  month.  Sure,  'twould  be  wort'  that  alone  to  see  the 
face  av  ye,  young  man,  afther  wan  look  at  the  coal  bill." 

"What  repairs  would  you  suggest?  Do  you  think  she 
needs  another  boiler?  I  noticed  she  has  two.  We  could 
move  those  two  over  and  make  room  for  another." 

"Do  nothing  av  the  sort,  sir.  Before  ould  Webb  got 
her  she'd  been  usin'  bad  wather  down  on  the  East  African 


830  CAPPY    RICKS 

Coast,  I'm  thinkin',  and  it  raised  hell  wit'  her.  *Tis  the 
eipinse  av  retubin'  her  condensers  that  always  frightened 
ould  Webb,  and  whin  he  lost  conthrol  the  blatherskite 
booby  av  a  port  ingineer  the  new  owners  appointed  come 
down  to  the  ship,  looked  her  over,  wit'  niver  a  question  to 
me  that  knew  the  very  sowl  av  her,  and  reported  to  the 
owners  that  what  she  needed  was  another  b'iler."  And 
Terence  Reardon  laughed  the  short,  mirthless  chuckle  of 
the  man  who  knows. 

"Then,"  Matt  continued,  "the  money  should  be 
spent " 

"In  retubing  her  condensers,"  declared  the  engineer 
emphatically.  "Do  that  an*  do  a  good  job  on  her,  an* 
she'll  have  shteam  enough  for  thim  fine  big  ingines  av 
hers  on  thirty-two  ton  a  day,  an*  less.  An'  have  a  care 
would  ye  buy  her  until  she  ships  a  new  crank  shaft.  She's 
a  crack  in  the  web  av  the  afther  crank  shaft  ye  could 
shtick  a  knife  blade  into.  She  may  run  for  years,  but 
sooner  or  later  some  wan'll  have  a  salvage  claim  agin  ye 
if  ye  neglect  it  now.  An',  for  the  love  av  heaven,  have 
nothin'  to  do  wit'  her  big  motor.  'Twas  bur-rnt  out  by 
him  that  had  her  ahead  av  me — bad  cess  to  him,  whereiver 
he  is!  An'  they  did  a  poor,  cheap  job  av  windin5  the 
armature  agin.  Ye'll  be  in  hot  wather  wit'  the  electric- 
light  system  until  ye  put  in  a  new  motor. 

"The  rheostat  on  the  searchlight  niver  was  any  good; 
and  she  may  or  may  not  need  a  new  whistle — I  dunno. 
Sure,  the  fciipper  niver  blew  it  good  an'  long  but  the 
wanst ;  an',  so  help  me,  young  man,  I  was  lookin'  at  the 
shteam  gauge  whin  he  shtarted  that  prolonged  blast — 
an*  whin  he  finished  the  gauge  had  dhropped  tin  pounds ! 
So  up  I  go  on  the  bridge  to  the  ould  man,  an'  says  I  to 
him,  says  I:  'Clear  weather  or  thick  fog,  I'm  tellin'  ye 


A  SHIP  FORGOTTEN  331 

to  lave  that  whistle  alone  if  ye  expect  to  finish  the  voyage. 
Wan  toot  out  av  it  means  a  ton  av  coal  gone  to  hell  an' 
a  dhrop  av  blood  out  av  the  owner's  heart!"  An'  from 
that  time  on  the  best  I  iver  hearrd  out  av  that  whistle  was 
a  sick  sort  av  a  sob." 

Matt  laughed  as  Terence  Reardon's  natural  propensity 
for  romancing  came  to  the  front.  He  thanked  the  chief 
for  the  latter's  invaluable  information,  and,  with  a  mental 
resolve  to  have  Terence  Rcardon  presiding  over  the  engines 
of  the  Narcissus  at  no  distant  date,  he  returned  to  the 
city. 


CHAPTER    XLVII 

THE    TAIL    GOES    WITH    THE    HIDE 

THE  following  morning  Matt  called  upon  MacCandless, 
the  general  manager  of  the  Oriental  Steamship  Company. 
Mr.  MacCandless  was  a  cold  individual  of  Scotch  ancestry, 
with  a  scent  for  a  dollar  a  trifle  keener  than  most ;  and 
Matt  Peasley,  young  and  inexperienced  in  business  fencing, 
was  never  more  aware  of  his  deficiencies  than  when  he 
faced  MacCandless  across  the  latter's  desk.  Consequently, 
he  resolved  to  waste  no  words  in  vain  parley.  MacCandless 
was  still  looking  curiously  at  Matt's  card  when  the  latter 
said: 

"I  called  with  reference  to  that  big  freighter  of  the 
Oriental  Steamship  Company — the  Narcissus.  Is  she  for 
sale?" 

MacCandless  smiled  with  his  lips,  but  his  eyes  wore  the 
eternal  Show-mc !  look.  He  nodded. 

"Foolish  of  me  to  ask,  I  know,"  Matt  continued 
complacently,  "since  it  is  a  matter  of  common  gossip  that 
you  would  have  been  delighted  to  have  sold  her  any  time 
these  past  eight  years." 

Since  MacCandless  did  not  deny  this  Matt  assumed 
that  it  was  true  and  returned  to  the  attack  with  renewed 
vigor. 

"What  do  you  want  for  her?" 

"Are  you  acting  as  a  broker  in  this  matter  or  do  you 
represent  principals  who  have  asked  you  to  interview  me? 

332 


THE  TAIL  GOES  WITH  THE  HIDE      333 

In  other  words,  before  I  talk  business  with  you  I  want  to 
know  that  you  mean  business.  I  shall  waste  no  time 
discussing  a  possible  trade  unless  you  assure  me  that  you 
have  a  customer  in  sight.  I  am  weary  of  brokers.  I've 
had  forty  of  them  after  that  vessel  from  time  to  time, 
but  no  business  ever  resulted." 

"Which  is  not  at  all  surprising,  considering  the  circum 
stances,"  Matt  retorted.  "If  you  cannot  use  her  yourself 
you  mustn't  expect  other  people  to  be  over-enthusiastic 
about  owning  her.  However,  I  think  I  can  find  business 
for  her,  and  I've  come  to  buy  her  myself.  You  seem  to 
think  a  lot  of  your  time,  so  I'll  conserve  it  for  you.  I'm 
the  principal  in  this  deal,  and  if  you  really  want  to  get 
rid  of  her  we'll  do  business  in  two  minutes." 

"Three  hundred  thousand  dollars,"  MacCandless 
answered  promptly. 

"Listen,"  said  Matt  Peasley.  "I  have  fifty  thousand 
dollars  of  my  own  in  bank  this  minute,  but  I  will  have  to 
raise  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  more  before  I  can 
afford  to  buy  your  vessel,  even  if  we  agree  on  that  price, 
which  does  not  seem  probable.  I'll  give  you  two  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  for  the  steamer  Narcissus ;  but 
when  you  turn  her  over  to  me  I  want  a  ship,  not  a  piece  of 
floating  junk.  You'll  have  to  ship  a  new  crank  shaft, 
rewind  the  main  motor,  renew  the  Manila  lines,  overhaul 
the  standing  rigging,  retube  the  condensers  and  dock  her 
before  handing  her  over  to  me.  She's  as  foul  as  any  hulk 
in  Rotten  Row." 

"Why,  that  will  cost  in  the  neighborhood  of  forty 
thousand  dollars — nearer  fifty!"  MacCandless  declared. 

"I  know.  But  for  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  I 
can  go  to  Sweden,  build  a  smaller  vessel  than  the  Narcis 
sus,  have  her  right  up  to  date,  with  two-thousand-horse- 


334  CAPPY    RICKS 

pOWer  oil-burning  motors  in  her ;  and  the  saving  in  space 
due  to  motor  installation,  with  oil  tanks  instead  of  coal 
bunkers,  will  enable  me  to  carry  fully  as  much  cargo  as 
the  Narcissus.  Also,  I'll  burn  six  tons  of  crude  oil  a  day 
to  your  forty  tons  of  coal  a  day  in  the  Narcissus.  I'll 
emplo}'  eight  men  less  in  my  crew,  and  have  a  cleaner, 
faster  and  better  ship.  The  motor  ship  is  the  freighter 
of  the  future,  and  you  know  it.  Your  Narcissus  is  out 
of  date,  and  I'm  only  offering  you  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars  because  I  can  use  her  right  away." 

"Young  man,"  said  MacCandless,  "you  talk  like  a  per 
son  that  means  business,  but  you  overlook  the  fact  that 
this  company  is  neither  bankrupt  nor  silly.  The  directors 
will,  I  feel  assured,  agree  to  do  all  the  work  you  specify, 
but  the  price  must  be  three  hundred  thousand.  That  will 
leave  us  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  net." 

"I'll  split  the  difference  with  you." 

MacCandless  shook  his  head. 

"Well,  that  ends  our  argument,"  Matt  answered  pleas 
antly,  and  took  up  his  hat.  "You  can  keep  your  big  white 
elephant  another  eight  years,  Mr.  MacCandless.  Perhaps 
some  principal  will  come  along  then  and  make  you  another 
offer;  and  in  the  interim  you  can  charge  off  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  interest  on  the  money 
tied  up  in  the  Narcissus.  Fine  business — I  don't  think!" 
He  nodded  farewell  and  started  for  the  door. 

"But  you  say  you  have  but  fifty  thousand  dollars," 
MacCandless  protested. 

"I  said  I'd  have  to  get  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars  more.  Well,  I'll  do  it." 

"Quite  a  sum  to  raise  these  days,"  MacCandless  re 
marked  doubtfully. 

"Well,  if  you'll  give   me   a   sixty-day   option   on   the 


THE  TAIL  GOES  WITH  THE  HIDE     335 

Narcissus  at  two  hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand  dol 
lars  and  agree  to  do  the  repairs  on  her,  including 
dry-docking,  cleaning  and  painting  her  up  to  the  water 
line,  I'll  take  a  ten-thousand-dollar  chance,  Mr.  MacCand- 
,less,  that  I  can  raise  the  money." 

"Do  you  mean  you'll  give  the  Oriental  Steamship  Com 
pany  ten  thousand  dollars  for  a  sixty-day  option?" 

"I  do  ;  and  I'll  pay  for  the  vessel  as  I  raise  the  remainder 
of  the  money.  Ten  thousand  dollars  down  for  the  option, 
to  apply  on  the  purchase  price,  of  course,  if  the  deal  goes 
through,  and  to  be  forfeited  to  you  if  I  fail  to  make  the 
next  payment  on  time." 

"What  will  the  next  payment  be?"  the  cautious 
MacCandless  demanded. 

"Twenty  thousand  dollars  a  month,  with  interest  at  six 
per  cent,  in  deferred  payments.  You  might  as  well  be 
earning  six  per  cent,  on  her  as  have  her  rusting  holes  in 
her  bottom  down  there  in  Mission  Bay.  As  she  lies,  you're 
losing  at  least  six  per  cent,  interest  on  her." 

"There's  reason  in  that,"  MacCandless  answered 
thoughtfully.  "You  to  insure  the  vessel  as  our  interest 
may  appear,  bill  of  sale  in  escrow;  and  if  you  default  for 
more  than  thirty  days  on  any  payment  before  we  have 
received  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  purchase  price  you  lose  out 
and  we  get  our  ship  back." 

"Sharp  business,  but  I'll  take  it,  Mr.  MacCandless. 
After  I've  paid  half  the  money  I  can  mortgage  her  for 
the  remainder  and  get  out  from  under  your  clutches. 
Put  the  buck  up  to  your  directors,  get  their  approval  to 
the  option  and  contract  of  sale,  notify  me,  and  I'll  be  right 
up  with  a  certified  check  for  ten  thousand  dollars."  And, 
without  giving  MacCandless  time  to  answer,  Matt  took 
his  departure. 


336  GAPPY    RICKS 

"If  I  talked  ten  minutes  with  that  man,"  he  soliloquized, 
'he'd  have  the  number  of  my  mess.  He'd  realize  what  a 
piker  I  was  and  terminate  the  interview.  But — I — think 
he'll  meet  my  terms,  because  he  sees  Pm  pretty  young 
and  inexperienced,  and  he  figures  he'll  make  ten  or  twenty 
thousand  dollars  out  of  me  before  I  discover  I'm  a  rotten 
promoter.  And,  at  that,  his  is  better  than  an  even-money 
bet!" 

At  five  o'clock  that  same  day  MacCandless  telephoned. 

"I  have  called  a  special  meeting  of  our  directors, 
Captain  Peasley,"  he  announced,  "and  put  your  proposi 
tion  up  to  them.  They  have  agreed  to  it,  and  if  you  will 
be  at  my  office  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  I  think  we  can 
do  business." 

"I  think  so,"  Matt  answered.     "I'll  be  there." 

He  hung  up,  reached  for  a  telegraph  blank  and  wrote 
the  following  message : 

San  Francisco,  July  28,  1914. 
Terence  Reardon, 

Chief  Engineer,  S.  S.  Arab, 

Port  Costa,  California. 

Have  bought  Narcissus.  Offer  you  one  hundred 
seventy-five  a  month  quit  Arab  now  and  supervise 
installation  new  crank  shaft,  retubing  condensers,  and 
so  on;  permanent  job  as  chief.  Do  vou  accept? 
Answer  immediately. 

PACIFIC  SHIPPING  COMPANY, 

Matthew  Peasley,  President. 

Having  dispatched  this  message,  Matt  Peasley  closed 
down  his  desk,  strolled  round  to  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company's  offices,  and  picked  up  his  newly  acquired 
father-in-law.  On  their  way  home  in  Cappy's  carriage 


THE  TAIL  GOES  WITH  THE  HIDE      337 

the  old  gentleman,  apropos  of  the  afternoon  press  dis 
patches  from  Europe,  remarked  that  the  situation  abroad 
was  anything  but  encouraging. 

"Do  you  think  we'll  have  a  war  in  Europe?"  Matt 
queried. 

"Germany  seems  determined  to  back  up  Austria  in  her 
demands  on  Serbia,  and  I  don't  think  Serbia  will  eat 
quite  all  of  the  dish  of  dirt  Francis  Joseph  has  set  before 
her,'*  Cappy  answered  seriously.  "Austria  seems  deter 
mined  to  make  an  issue  of  the  assassination  of  the  Arch 
duke  Ferdinand  and  his  wife.  If  she  does,  Matt,  there'll 
be  the  most  awful  war  in  history.  All  Europe  will  be 
fighting." 

Matt  was  silent  and  thoughtful  all  the  way  home,  but 
just  before  they  left  the  carriage  he  turned  to  Cappy. 

"If  there's  war,"  he  remarked,  "England  will,  doubtless, 
control  the  seas  because  of  her  superior  navy.  German 
commerce  will  absolutely  cease." 

"The  submarine  will  have  to  be  reckoned  with,  also," 
Cappy  suggested.  "England's  commerce  will  doubtless 
be  knocked  into  a  cocked  hat." 

"There'll  be  a  shortage  of  bottoms,  and  vessels  will  be 
in  brisk  demand,"  Matt  predicted.  "There'll  be  a  sharp 
rise  in  freight  rates  on  all  commodities  the  instant  war 
breaks  out,  and  the  American  mercantile  marine  ought  to 
reap  a  harvest." 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  Cappy  acidly,  "why  speak  of  the 
American  mercantile  marine?  There  ain't  no  such  animal." 

"There  will  be — if  the  war  in  Europe  ever  starts,"  Matt 
retorted;  "and,  what's  more,  I'm  going  to  bet  there  will 
be  war  within  thirty  days." 

He  did  not  consider  it  advisable  to  mention  to  Cappy 
Jthat  he  was  going  to  bet  ten  thousand  dollars ! 


CHAPTER    XLVIII 

VICTORY 

AT  ten  o'clock  the  following  morning  Matt  Peasley, 
accompanied  by  an  attorney,  an  expert  in  maritime  law, 
presented  himself  at  the  Oriental  Steamship  Company's 
office.  MacCandless  and  the  attorney  for  his  company 
were  awaiting  them,  with  a  tentative  form  of  contract  of 
sale  already  drawn  up,  and  after  a  two-hour  discussion  on 
various  points  the  finished  document  was  finally  presented 
for  the  signatures  of  both  parties,  but  not,  however,  until 
Matt  Peasley  had  been  forced  to  do  something  that 
brought  out  a  gentle  perspiration  on  the  backs  of  his 
sturdy  legs.  Before  the  shrewd  MacCandless  would  con 
sent  to  begin  the  work  of  placing  the  vessel  in  commission, 
according  to  agreement,  he  stipulated  a  payment  of 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars  down !  He  estimated  the  cost 
of  the  docking  and  repair  work  at  fifty  thousand  dollars, 
and,  desiring  to  play  safe,  insisted  that  Matt  Peasley 
should  advance  at  least  fifty  per  cent,  of  this  preliminary 
outlay  in  cash. 

Matt  thereupon  excused  himself  from  the  conference  on 
the  plea  that  he  had  to  consult  with  others  before  taking 
this  step.  He  was  gone  about  fifteen  minutes,  during 
which  time  he  consulted  with  the  "others."  They  happened 
to  be  two  newsboys  selling  rival  afternoon  editions.  Matt 
Peasley  did  business  with  each,  and  after  a  quick  perusal 
of  both  papers  he  decided  that  war  was  inevitable  and 

338 


VICTORY  339 

resolved  to  take  the  plunge.  In  no  sense  of  the  word, 
however,  did  he  believe  he  was  gambling.  His  conversation 
with  Terence  Reardon  had  convinced  him  that  the  Nar 
cissus  was  a  misunderstood  ship — that  she  had  been  poorly 
managed  and  was  the  victim  of  a  false  financial  policy. 

Hence,  even  though  the  war  should  not  materialize,  he 
would  be  making  no  mistake  in  tying  her  up.  She  was  a 
bully  gamble  and  a  wonderful  bargain  at  the  price;  with 
Terence  Reardon  presiding  over  her  engines  at  a  salary 
twenty-five  dollars  in  excess  of  the  union  scale,  the  orders 
to  keep  her  out  of  the  shop  would  be  followed,  so  far  as 
lay  in  Terence's  power.  Even  should  he  not  succeed  in 
financing  the  enterprise  Gappy  Ricks  would  be  glad  to  take 
his  bargain  off  his  hands — perhaps  at  a  neat  profit. 
Consequently,  Matt  went  over  to  his  bank,  procured  an 
additional  certified  check  for  fifteen  thousand  dollars  and 
returned  to  MacCandless'  office,  where  he  signed  the  con 
tract  of  sale  and  paid  over  his  twenty-five  thousand  dollars. 
He  trembled  a  little  as  he  did  it. 

"I'll  have  the  insurance  on  her  placed  this  afternoon," 
MacCandless  suggested  as  he  handed  Matt  his  copy  of  the 
sale  contract ;  whereat  the  latter  came  to  life  with  galvanic 
suddenness. 

"Oh,  no,  you'll  not,  Mr.  MacCandless,"  he  suggested 
smilingly.  "I'll  place  that  insurance  myself.  My  company 
has  to  pay  for  it,  so  I'll  act  as  agent  and  collect  ray  little 
old  ten  per  cent,  commission.  But,  passing  that,  do  you 
want  to  know  the  latest — the  very  latest  news  ?" 

"I  don't  mind,"  MacCandless  replied. 

"Well,  there's  going  to  be  a  devil  of  a  big  war  in  Europe 
and  I  wouldn't  take  four  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  the 
Narcissus  this  minute.  May  I  use  your  telephone? 
Thanks!"  He  called  up  his  office.  "Is  there  a  telegram 


340  GAPPY    RICKS 

there  for  me?"  he  queried,  and  on  being  answered  in  the 
affirmative  he  directed  his  stenographer  to  read  it  to  him. 
He  turned  to  MacCandless. 

"Mr.  Terence  Reardon  will  have  entire  charge  of  the 
work  of  retubing  those  condensers,  and  so  on,"  he  ex 
plained.  "I'll  give  him  a  letter  to  you,  which  will  be  his 
authority  to  superintend  the  job.  I'm  going  to  New  York 
to-night,  but  I  think  I'll  be  back  in  time  to  accept  the 
vessel  when  she's  ready  for  commission."  He  looked  at 
his  watch.  It  was  just  twelve-thirty  o'clock.  "The  Over 
land  leaves  at  two-thirty,"  he  murmured.  "I'll  have  just 
time  to  pack  a  suit  case."  And  he  picked  up  his  hat  and 
fled  with  the  celerity  and  singleness  of  purpose  of  a  tin- 
canned  dog. 

Cappy  Ricks  woke  from  his  mid-afternoon  doze  to  find 
his  son-in-law  shaking  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"Well,  young  man,"  Cappy  began  severely,  "so  you're 
back,  are  you?  Give  an  account  of  yourself.  Where  the 
devil  have  you  been  for  the  past  two  weeks?  Why  did  you 
go,  and  why  did  you  have  the  consummate  nerve  to  leave 
Florry  behind  you?  Why,  you  hadn't  been  married  two 
months " 

"I  couldn't  take  her  with  me,  sir,"  Matt  protested.  "I 
wanted  to,  but  she  would  have  been  in  the  way.  You  see, 
I  knew  I  was  going  to  be  busy  night  and  day." 

Cappy  Ricks  slid  out  to  the  edge  of  his  swivel  chair ; 
with  a  hand  on  each  knee  he  gazed  at  his  smiling  son-in-law 
over  the  rims  of  his  spectacles.  For  fully  a  minute  he 
remained  motionless. 

"Matt,"  he  demanded  suspiciously,  "what  the  devil  have 
you  been  up  to?" 

Matt  raised  a  huge  forefinger. 

"Number    one,"    he    began:    "I    bought    the    Oriental 


VICTORY  341 

Steamship  Company's  freighter  Narcissus,  seventy-five 
hundred  tons'  register,  for  two  hundred  and  seventy-five 
thousand  dollars,  and  in  a  month  she'll  be  in  tiptop  shape 
and  ready  for  sea.  I've  paid  twenty-five  thousand  dollars 
down  on  her  and  I'll  have  to  make  a  payment  of  twenty 
thousand  dollars  on  the  twenty-sixth  of  September,  and 
twenty  thousand  dollars  a  month  on  her  thereafter  until 
she  is  paid  for.  And  if  I  default  on  a  payment  for  more 
than  thirty  days  before  I've  paid  off  half  of  the  purchase 
price  the  Oriental  Steamship  Company  may,  at  its  option, 
take  the  vessel  away  from  me." 

Cappy  Ricks  smiled. 

"Ah!"  he  breathed  softly.  "So  you  want  help,  eh? 
You  finally  did  manage  to  get  into  deep  water  close  to  the 
shore,  and  now  you're  yelling  to  father  to  come  through 
and  save  you,  eh?  Well,  Matt,  I'll  do  it,  my  boy,  because 
I  think  you  made  a  bully  buy;  and  she's  worth  it.  I'll 
take  over  your  bargain  for  you  and  give  you,  say — er — ' 
ahem!  we — harumph-h-h! — say  twenty-five  thousand  dol 
lars  profit.  Not  so  bad,  eh?  When  I  was  your  age ** 

Cappy  paused,  open-mouthed.  He  had  suddenly  remem 
bered  something.  "Oh,  no,"  he  contradicted  himself ;  "this 
isn't  my  foolish  day — not  by  a  jugful!  You  owe  me  a  lot 
of  money  on  that  promissory  note  you  gave  me  when  we 
settled  up  for  that  Tillicum  business — so  I'll  not  give  you 
any  money  after  all.  I'll  just  take  the  contract  of  sale  off 
your  hands,  give  you  back  the  money  you  risked  in  the 
deal — and  your  promissory  note,  canceled."  And  Cappy 
Ricks  sat  back  and  clawed  his  whiskers  expectantly. 

"Oh,  I'm  not  in  distress,"  Matt  answered  cheerfully. 
"On  the  contrary,  I'm  going  to  take  up  that  note  before 
the  week  is  out." 

Once  more  Cappy  slid  out  to  the  edge  of  his  chair. 


342  CAPPY    RICKS 

"Where  are  you  going  to  get  the  money  ?"  he  demanded 
bluntly. 

"I'm  going  to  sell  the  Narcissus.  The  day  I  purchased 
lier  it  was  a  moral  certainty  that  Europe  was  to  be 
plunged  into  a  terrible  war;  so  the  ink  wasn't  dry  on  the 
contract  before  I  was  streaking  it  for  New  York.  War 
vras  declared  by  England  on  Germany  on  the  fifth  of 
August,  and  while  you'd  be  saying  Jack  Robinson  every 
German  freighter  went  into  neutral  ports  to  intern  until 
the  war  should  terminate.  The  German  raiders  are  still 
out  after  the  British  and  French  commerce,  and  the  deep- 
water  shipping  out  of  Eastern  ports  isn't  a  business  any 
more.  It's  a  delirium — a  night-mare !  Why,  I  was  offered 
any  number  of  charters  for  my  Narcissus,  but  I  didn't 
bother  trying  to  charter  her  until  just  before  I  started  for 
home;  and,  moreover,  the  longer  I  waited  the  better 
charter  I  could  make.  Besides,  she  isn't  in  commission 
yet — and  I  had  other  fish  to  fry." 

"For  instance?"  Cappy  queried  wonderingly. 

"It  is  an  undisputed  fact  that  the  early  bird  gets  the 
worm,"  Matt  Peasley  replied  brightly,  "and  I  was  the 
early  bird.  I  was  in  New  York  a  few  days  before  the  war 
became  general,  and  for  a  week  thereafter  everybody  was 
so  blamed  interested  in  the  fighting  they  neglected  busi 
ness.  But  I  didn't.  I  went  to  New  York  to  charter,  under 
the  government  form,  as  many  big  steel  freighters  as  I 
could  lay  hands  on " 

Cappy  Ricks  raised  his  clasped  hands  and  gazed  rev 
erently  upward. 

"Oh,  Lord !"  he  murmured.    "How  many  ?  How  many  ?" 

"Fifteen,"  Matt  Peasley  murmured  complacently.  "I 
got  about  half  of  them  real  cheap,  because  business  ivas 
rotten  when  I  landed  in  the  East.  Why,  I  chartered  the 


VICTORY  343 

entire  fleet  of  one  shipping  firm  in  Boston.  I  had  to  pay 
a  stiff er  rate  for  the  others ;  but " 

"How  long  did  you  charter  them  for?"  Cappy  yelled. 
"Quick!  Tell  me!" 

"All  for  a  year,  with  the  privilege  of  renewal  at  a  ten 
per  cent,  advance.  I  had  no  difficulty  in  rechartering  to 
the  men  who  had  been  asleep  on  the  job.  I  shall  average 
a  profit  of  two  hundred  dollars  a  day  on  each  of  the  fifteen,* 
even  if  I  do  not  charter  them  longer " 

"A  day !"  Cappy's  voice  rose  to  a  shrill  scream. 

"A  day !  Any  American  bottom  that  will  float  and  move 
through  the  water  is  worth  five  times  what  it  was  before 
war  was  declared,  and  the  freight  rates  are  going  up  every 
day.  Three  thousand  dollars  a  day  income — three  hun 
dred  and  sixty-five  days  in  the  year!  Man,  if  the  war 
lasts  a  year  I'll  make  a  million  dollars  net !" 

"But — but — about  this  Narcissus?"  Cappy  sputtered. 

"Just  before  I  left  for  home  I  chartered  her  at  fourteen 
hundred  dollars  a  day — forty-two  thousand  dollars  a 
month — on  the  Government  form  of  charter." 

"Im-possible !"  Cappy  shrieked,  losing  all  control  of 
himself.  "Dog-gone  you,  Matt  Peasley,  don't  tell  me  such 
stories.  You're  driving  me  crazy !" 

"It  will  cost  me  nine  thousand  a  month  to  run  her — 
and  she  doesn't  even  go  near  the  war  zone.  I'm  going 
to  run  her  to  South  American  ports." 

"How  long?"  , 

Matt  Peasley  smiled.  "How  long?"  he  echoed.  "Why, 
she's  only  chartered  for  one  trip  just  now.  You  don't 
suppose  I'd  charter  her  for  several  voyages  or  for  a  year, 
on  a  freight  market  that's  growing  over-night?" 

"And  those  fifteen  vessels  you  chartered.  You  rechart- 
ered  them.  For  what  period?" 


344  CAPPY    RICKS 

"Three  months,  with  privilege  of  renewal  at  the  going 
rates." 

"Matt,"  Cappy  murmured,  "you're  great.  Damn  me, 
sir,  I  could  kiss  you." 

Matt  grinned  at  this  earnest  commendation. 

"Of  course  I  can  operate  the  Narcissus  and  meet  my 
monthly  payments  to  the  Oriental  Steamship  Company 
and  still  be  ahead  of  the  game,"  he  continued.  "But  I'm 
going  to  sell  her,  Mr.  Ricks.  I've  had  an  offer  of  four 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  for  her  already — and 
she's  still  waiting  to  be  hauled  out  on  the  marine  railway 
and  put  in  commission!  I'll  just  wait  one  week  and  by 
that  time  she'll  bring  half  a  million.  At  that  I  hate  to 
sell,  but  I've  got  to.  I  figure  a  bird  in  the  hand  is  worth 
two  in  the  bush." 

"Why  have  you  got  to?"  Cappy  shrilled.  "You're 
crazy!  You  don't  have  to." 

"But  the  next  payment  will  come  due  on  her  before  I 
receive  any  charter  money  from  the  Steel  people,  and 
that  will  clean  me  for  fair.  I  can't  help  myself.  Besides, 
I've  got  these  other  fifteen  vessels  chartered;  I'll  have  to 
have  capital — and  I've  got  to  have  it  quickly  or  I'll  be  a 
pauper  while  you'd  be  saying  Jack  Robinson." 

"But,  Matt,  you  old  dunderhead,  you  musn't  sell  a  good 
thing.  Why,  man,  you've  got  a  million  and  a  half  profit 
right  in  the  hollow  of  your  hand;  and,  oh,  we  musn't  let 
it  get  away,  Matt — we  mustn't  let  it  get  away! 

"It  was  magnificent,  Matt — perfectly  magnificent.  I'll 
help  you,  sonny.  By  golly,  I'll  go  to  the  bat  for  you  and 
back  you  for  the  last  dollar  I  have.  No  more  monkey- 
shines  between  us  now,  boy  !  We've  had  a  lot  of  fun  in 
our  day,  playing  nip  and  tuck  with  each  other;  but — 
this  is  real  business.  You've  got  to  be  saved." 


VICTORY  345 

**I  had  an  idea  that  you  would  see  it  in  that  light,  sir," 
Matt  suggested  smilingly.  "I  knew  you'd  back  me  up ;  so 
I  didn't  worry.  But  you'll  have  to  take  half  the  profit 
on  the  deals  I've  made — that's  only  fair." 

"Profits !"  Cappy  Ricks  sneered.  "Why,  what  the  devil 
><do  I  care  for  profits?  You  keep  the  profits.  You  and 
Florry  are  young  and  you'll  know  how  to  enjoy  them. 
Why,  what  do  you  think  I  am?  A  human  hog?  Let  me 
sit  in  the  game  with  you — let  me  play  the  game  of  business 
with  you,  son,  down  to  my  last  buffalo  nickel.  I  can't  take 
the  blamed  money  with  me  when  I  die,  can  I?  But  don't 
ask  me  to  make  any  money  out  of  you,  my  boy.  I'm 
going  to  get  my  fun  watching  you  in  action." 

Matt  Peasley  came  close  and  took  old  Cappy  Ricks' 
hand  in  both  of  his. 

"I  want  to  be  your  partner,"  he  said  wistfully.  "I 
couldn't  come  into  this  office  and  sponge  off  you,  and  so 
I've  waited  until  I  could  buy  in !  I  wanted  to  bring  some 
assets  besides  myself  when  I  should  come  to  manage  the 
Blue  Star.  May  I,  sir?  I  want  to  turn  in  this  big  deal 
I've  put  over  for  stock  in  the  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging 
Company  and  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company;  and, 
then,  with  Skinner  managing  the  lumber  end,  I'll  sit  in  and 
run  the  fleet — and  you  just  sit  round  and  help  and  offer 
advice,  Mr.  Ricks.  Let  me  turn  in  the  Narcissus  for 
what  I  have  been  offered— four  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars — and  take  stock. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  an  employee;  I  don't  want  to  be 
just  your  son-in-law,  waiting  for  your  shoes.  I  want  to 
be  your  partner — to  be  more  than  a  cog  in  the  machine. 
And  those  freighters  I've  chartered — why,  I  could  never 
have  chartered  them  without  your  help.  Who  was  I? 
Would  I  have  had  any  credit  or  standing  with  those  big 


346  CAPPY    RICKS 

Eastern  shipping  firms  ?  Not  much !  I  represented  mjself 
as  the  general  manager  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Com 
pany.  And  they  knew  about  you — you  were  rated  A-l 
in  financial  circles." 

"You  what?"  yelled  Cappy.  "General  manager!  You 
infernal  duffer,  why  didn't  you  cut  the  whole  hog  and  call 
yourself  president?" 

"I  had  my  cards  printed  to  read:  Vice  President  and 
General  Manager,"  Matt  replied  with  a  twinkle.  ''I 
didn't  feel  any  qualms  of  conscience  about  cutting  that 
much  of  the  hog,  because  I  knew  you  would  make  me 
vice  president  and  general  manager  as  soon  as  I  got  back 
with  the  bacon!  So  I  signed  all  the  charters,  'Blvo  Star 
Navigation  Company,  by  Matthew  Peasley,  V.  P.  and 
G.  M.' — drew  a  raft  of  sight  drafts  on  you  also.  They'll 
be  putting  in  an  appearance  in  a  day  or  two.  I  got  home 
just  about  two  jumps  ahead  of  them." 

"You're  a  devil!"  said  Cappy  Ricks.  "But— I'll  pay 
the  drafts."  Matt  laughed  happily.  "You're  bringing 
about  a  million  and  a  half  into  the  company — at  least,  if 
everything  goes  well,  you  will ;  and  you've  got  a  half  inter 
est  in  what  you  have  brought  in,"  Cappy  continued. 

He  touched  a  push  button.  An  instant  later  Mr. 
Skinner  appeared. 

"Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Cappy,  "Matt  has  a  flock 
of  charters  he  has  made  for  us  in  the  East — also,  a  flock 
of  recharters  of  the  same  boats — also,  a  contract  of  sal^ 
on  the  steamer  Narcissus.  Make  out  a  form  of  assign 
ment  of  that  contract  from  the  Pacific  Shipping  Company 
to  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  and  Matt  will  sign 
it.  We'll  keep  that  boat  ourselves.  Then  give  Matt  a 
check  for  the  next  payment  due  that  man  MacCandless 
on  the  Narcissus  and  after  you've  cleaned  up  with  Mattt 


VICTORY  347 

Skinner,  have  Hankins  issue  him  seven  hundred  an3  fifty 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  stock — half  in  the  Blue  Star 
and  half  in  the  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  Company.  Tell 
Hankins,  also,  to  call  a  special  meeting  of  the  board  of 
directors  of  both  companies  for  ten  o'clock  to-morrow — 
and  to  be  sure  to  have  a  quorum  present.  And  in  the 
meantime  put  the  Narcissus  under  provisional  American 
registry." 

"Why,  what  are  you  going  to  do?"  Mr.  Skinner  de 
manded  wonderingly. 

Gappy  walked  up  to  his  general  manager  and  affection 
ately  placed  his  hand  on  Skinner's  arm. 

"Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he  said,  "we're  going  to  elect 
you  president  of  the  lumber  company  and  Matt  is  to  be 
president  of  the  Navigation  Company.  I'm  going  to 
resign  and  be  a  sort  of  president  emeritus  of  both  com 
panies  and  advisory  director  to  both  boards.  Matt,  you 
might  tell  Skinner  what  your  plans  are  for  the  Blue  Star." 

"Well,"  said  Matt,  "I'm  going  to  leave  the  president 
emeritus  on  the  job  a  few  months  longer." 

"Not  by  a  jugful!  I  quit  to-morrow.  Hereafter  I'm 
just  scenery.  I'm  old  and  I  must  give  way  to  youth.  I've 
had  my  day;  I'm  out  of  the  running  now,"  Cappy 
answered  sadly. 

"We're  going  to  leave  the  president  emeritus  on  the 
job,"  Matt  repeated,  "while  I  go  to  Europe  and  pick  up 
a  couple  of  big  British  tramps,  under  the  provisions  of 
the  recent  Emergency  Shipping  Act,  and  stick  'em  under 
the  American  flag.  Regardless  of  what  the  other  fellows 
may  do  or  think,  the  fact  is  we're  American  citizens ;  and 
we're  going  to  do  our  duty  and  help  establish  an  American 
mercantile  marine.  Skinner,  we'll  make  the  Blue  Star  flag 
known  on  the  Seven  Seas." 


348  CAPPY    RICKS 

Cappy  Ricks  sprang  into  the  air  and  got  one  thin  old 
arm  round  Matt  Peasley's  neck ;  with  the  other  he  groped 
for  Skinner,  for  there  were  tears  in  his  fine  old  eyes. 

"What  a  pair  of  lads  to  have  round  me!"  he  said 
huskily.  "Matt — Skinner,  my  boy — by  the  Holy  Pink- 
toed  Prophet ! — we'll  do  it ;  not  because  we  need  the  money 
or  want  it,  or  give  a  particular  damn  to  hoard  up  a  heap 
of  it.  but  because  it's  the  right  thing  to  do.  It's  patriotic 
— it's  American — our  activities  shall  enrich  the  world — 
and  oh,  it's  such  a  bully  game  to  play !" 

Mr.  Skinner  glanced  at  Cappy  Ricks  with  the  closest 
approach  to  downright  affection  he  considered  quite  dig 
nified  to  permit  during  business  hours. 

"I  notice  you  were  going  to  quit  a  minute  ago  to  become 
president  emeritus — and  now  you're  including  yourself  in 
the  new  program  of  activity,"  he  reminded  Cappy  Ricks. 
"I  seem  to  remember  that  for  the  past  few  years  you've 
been  talking  of  the  happy  day  when  you  could  retire  and 
learn  to  play  golf." 

"Golf!"  Cappy  glanced  at  Mr.  Skinner  witheringly. 
"Skinner,"  he  continued,  "don't  be  an  ass !  Golf  is  an 
old  man's  game — and  I  belong  with  the  young  fellows. 
Why,  don't  you  remember  the  day,  three  years  ago,  when 
we  discovered  we  had  a  sailor  named  Matt  Peasley  before 
the  mast  in  the  old  Retriever?  Why,  ever  since  I've  been 
having  so  much  fun " 

"And  that  reminds  me,"  Matt  interrupted:  "We  must 
send  a  new  skipper  to  Aberdeen  to  relieve  Mike  Murphy  in- 
the  Retriever.  He  has  his  ticket  for  steam  and  I've  hired 
him  at  two  hundred  and  fifty  a  month  to  skipper  the 
Narcissus.  Mike  is  one  of  the  best  men  under  the  Blue 
Star ;  he  has  come  up  from  before  the  mast." 

"The  only  kind  I  ever  gave  a  whoop  for,"  Cappy  de- 


VICTORY  349 

•larai  "In  effect,  he  once  told  me  to  go  chase  myself  f 
"But,"  Skinner  persisted,  "how  about  playing  golf?" 
Gappy  Ricks  raised  his  eyes  reverently  upward. 

"Please  God,"  he  said,  "I'll  die  in  the  harness !" 

"Amen !"  said  Mr.  Skinner ;  and  Matt  Peasley  re-echoed 

the  sentiment. 

THE    END 


DC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000817356     9 


